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Sea  and  Shore. 


^  ^tiWtttim  at  Poems. 


'  The  current  sweeps  the  old  world,  I 

The  current  sweeps  the  new  ; 
The  wind  will  blow,  the  dawn  will  glow, 

Ere  thou  hast  sailed  them  through."  i 

Charles  Kingsley. 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 

1874. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS, 

In  the  ofl6ce  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


X4X^\ 


Cambridge: 
Press  of  John   Wilson  and  Son. 


AND  ever^  as  he  travelled^  he  would  cli7nb 

The  farthest  mountain;  yet  the  heavenly  chime j 
The  7nighty  tolling  of  the  far-off  spheres 
Beating  their  pathway^  never  touched  his  ears. 
But  wheresoe' er  he  rose  the  heavens  rose^ 
And  the  far-gazing  mountain  could  disclose 
Nought  but  a  wider  earth  ;  until  one  height 
Showed  hiin  the  ocean  stretched  in  liquid  lights 
And  he  could  hear  its  multitudinozis  roar, 
Its  plunge  and  hiss  upon  the  pebbled  shore. 
Then  Jiibal  silent  sat,  and  touched  his  lyre  no  more. 

He  thought,  "  This  world  is  great :  but  I  ajn  weak, 
And  where  the  sky  bends  is  no  solid  peak 
To  give  7ne  footing',  but,  instead,  this  7nain, 
Like  7nyriad   7naddened  horses  ihunderi7ig  o'er  the 
plain?'' 

George  Eliot 


SEA  AND   SHORE. 


THE   DESCENT   OF  NEPTUNE. 

From  the  Iliad  of  Homer,  Book  XIII. 

"^rO  careless  watch  the  monarch  Neptune  kept: 

■^  ^      Wond'ring  he  viewed  the  battle  where  he  sat 

Aloft  on  wooded  Samos'  topmost  peak, 

Samos,  of  Thrace  ;  whence  Ida's  heights  he  saw, 

And  Priam's  city,  and  the  ships  of  Greece. 

Thither  ascended  from  the  sea,  he  sat ; 

And  thence  the  Greeks  by  Trojans  overborne 

Pitying  he  saw,  and  deeply  wroth  with  Jove. 

Then  down  the  mountain's  craggy  side  he  passed 

With  rapid  step  ;  and,  as  he  moved  along, 

Beneath  the  immortal  feet  of  Ocean's  Lord 

Quaked  the  huge  mountain  and  the  shadowy  wood. 

Three  strides  he  took ;  the  fourth  he  reached  his  goal, 

Aigae,  where  on  the  margin  of  the  bay 

His  temple  stood,  all  ghttering,  all  of  gold 

Imperishable  ;  there  arrived,  he  yoked 

Beneath  his  car  the  brazen-footed  steeds, 

Of  swiftest  flight,  with  manes  of  flowing  gold. 

All  clad  in  gold,  the  golden  lash  he  grasped, 

Of  curious  work,  and,  mounting  on  his  car. 

Skimmed  o'er  the  waves  ;  from  all  the  depths  below 


2  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Gambolled  around  the  monsters  of  the  deep, 
Acknowledging  their  king  ;  the  joyous  sea 
Parted  her  waves  ;  swift  flew  the  bounding  steeds  ; 
Nor  was  the  brazen  axle  wet  with  spray, 
When  to  the  ships  of  Greece  their  Lord  they  bore. 
Down  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  sea 
A  spacious  cave  there  is,  which  lies  midway 
'Twixt  Tenedos  and  Imbros'  rocky  isle  ; 
Earth-shaking  Neptune  there  his  coursers  stayed. 
Loosed  from  the  chariot,  and  before  them  placed 
Ambrosial  provender  ;  and  round  their  feet 
Shackles  of  gold,  which  none  might  break  or  loose, 
That  there  they  might  await  their  Lord's  return  ; 
Then  to  the  Grecian  army  took  his  way. 

Lord  Derbv 


THE    DESCENT    OF    NEPTUNE. 

From  the  Iliad  of  Homer,  Book  XIII. 

'T^HE  monarch  Neptune  kept  no  idle  watch ; 
■*•       For  he  in  Thracian  Samos,  dark  with  woods, 
Aloft  upon  the  highest  summit  sat, 
O'erlooking  thence  the  tumult  of  the  war  ; 
For  thence  could  he  behold  the  Idaean  mount, 
And  Priam's  city,  and  the  Grecian  fleet. 
There,  coming  from  the  ocean  deeps,  he  sat. 
And  pitied  the  Greek  warriors  put  to  rout 
Before  the  Trojans,  and  was  wroth  with  Jove. 
Soon  he  descended  from  those  rugged  steeps, 


THE  ARGONAUTS.  3 

And  trod  the  earth  with  rapid  strides  ;  the  hills 
And  forests  quaked  beneath  the  immortal  feet 
Of  Neptune  as  he  walked.     Three  strides  he  took, 
And  at  the  fourth  reached  Aegae,  where  he  stopped, 
And  where  his  sumptuous  palace  halls  were  built, 
Deep  down  in  ocean,  golden,  glittering,  proof 
Against  decay  of  time.     These  when  he  reached, 
He  yoked  his  swift  and  brazen-footed  steeds. 
With  manes  of  flowing  gold,  to  draw  his  car. 
And  put  on  golden  mail  and  took  his  scourge 
Wrought  of  fine  gold,  and  climbed  the  chariot  seat 
And  rode  upon  the  waves.     The  whales  came  forth 
From  their  deep  haunts,  and  frolicked  round  his  way. 
They  knew  their  king.     The  ^vaves  rejoicing  smoothed 
A  path,  and  rapidly  the  coursers  flew  ; 
Nor  was  the  brazen  axle  wet  below, 
And  thus  they  brought  him  to  the  Grecian  fleet. 

William  Cullen  Bryant. 


VISIT  OF  THE  ARGONAUTS  TO  THE  CAVE 
OF  CHIRON. 

From  Onomacritus. 

nPHEN    with  a  whistling   breeze  did  Juno  fill  the 
-^  sail, 

And  Argo  self-impelled  shot  swift  before  the  gale. 
The  kings  with  nerve  and   heart  the  oar   unwearied 

plied ; 
Ploughed  by  the  keel,  foamed  white  the  immeasurable 

tide. 


4  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

But  when    from   Ocean's   streams   the   sacred  dawn 

appeared, 
And  morning's  pleasant  light  both  gods  and  mortals 

cheered  ; 
Then,  from  the  shore,  the  rocks  and  windy  summits 

high 
Of  wood-topt  Pelion  reared  their  beacon  midst  the  sky. 
The  helm,  with  both  his  hands,  the  pilot  Tiphys  held ; 
The  vessel  cut  the  wave,  with  quiet  course  impelled  ; 
Then  swift  they  neared  the  shore,  the  wooden  ladder 

cast. 
And  forth  the  heroes  leaped,  relieved  from  labors  past. 

Sir  C.  a.  Elton. 


THE    SAILING    OF    THE   ARGO. 

From  Pindar. 

A  ND  soon  as  by  the  vessel's  bow 
■^  ^     The  anchor  was  hung  up  ; 
Then  took  the  leader  on  the  prow. 
In  hands,  a  golden  cup  ; 
And  on  great  father  Jove  did  call ; 
And  on  the  winds,  and  waters  all 
Swept  by  the  hurrying  blast ; 
And  on  the  nights  and  ocean  ways  ; 
And  on  the  fair  auspicious  days, 
And  sweet  return  at  last. 
From  out  the  clouds,  in  answer  kind, 
A  voice  of  tliunder  came  ; 
And  shook  in  glistering  beams  around, 


THE   CALM  OF  EVENING.  5 

Burst  out  the  lightning  flame. 

The  chiefs  breathed  free,  and  at  the  sign 

Trusted  in  the  power  divine. 

Hinting  sweet  hopes,  the  seer  cried, 

Forthwith  their  oars  to  ply  ; 

And  swift  went  backward  from  rough  hands 

The  rowing  ceaselessly. 

H.  F.  Gary. 

ON   THE   TOMB    OF   A    SHIPWRECKED 

MARINER. 

From  Posidippus. 

A  H,  why,  my  brother  mariner,  so  near  the  boister- 
•^  ^        ous  wave 

Of  ocean  have  ye  hollowed  out  my  solitary  grave  ? 
'Twere  better  much  that  far  from  hence  a  sailor's  tomb 

should  be. 
For  I  dread  my  rude  destroyer,  I  dread  the  roaring  sea. 
But  may  the  smiles  of  fortune,  may  love  and  peace 

await 
All  ye  that  shed  a  tear  for  poor  Nicetas'  hapless  fate  ! 

THE    CALM   OF   EVENING. 

From  Ennius. 

npHE  heaven's  vast  world  stood  silent;    Neptune 

gave 
A  hushful  pause  to  ocean's  roughening  wave  ; 
The  sun  curbed  his  swift  steeds  ;  the  eternal  floods 
Stood  still ;  and  not  a  breath  was  on  the  woods. 

William  Peter. 


0  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

DANAE. 

From  Simonides.     In  the  metre  of  the  original. 

"D  Y  the  billows  and  blast  driven  and  tost  in  the  gloom 

-^     Of  the  tempest-night,  cowering  in  terror 

Sat  she,  and  clasped  to  her  arms  httle  Perseus, 

And  wept  sore,  many  a  moan  uttering, 

In  anguish  of  heart :   O  my  darling  child, 

Misery  crushes  me  ;  but  in  soft  slumber  reposing 

Carest  thou  not,  fearest  thou  nought,  innocent  one  ! 

Here,  in  the  cold,  rayless,  desolate  gloom. 

Warm  is  thy  rest,  fair  is  thy  couch,  royal  its  hue  — 

beautiful  face  ! 
Couldst  thou  but  know  what  is  thy  dreadful  doom, 
Hadst  thou  an  ear  ready  to  listen 
To  these  my  words  —     Nay,  thou  shalt  sleep,  — baby 

shall  sleep  ! 
Fall  asleep,  thou  mighty  ocean  !  sleep,  O  my  misery  ! 
In  vain  they  weave  their  wicked  plans,  O  Father  ! 
Wilt  thou  not  —  Zeus,  I  beseech  !  —  destroy  all  they 

have  willed  ? 
For  the  child  I  pray  ;  fearless,  I  claim —  vengeance  ! 

D.  F.  L. 

DANAE. 

From  Simonides. 

'T^HERE  was  once  a  carven  ark  adrift  on  a  stormy 
-^  sea; 

And  the  wind  in  each  crevice  shrieked,  and  Danae 
cowering  there. 


BY  THE  SEA.  7 

With  the  spray  on  her  cheeks  and  screening  her  Per- 
seus motherly, 

Crooned  him  a  song  like  this  in  the  midst  of  her  de- 
spair : 

"  O  baby,  mother  is  full  of  heavy  care  ;  but  thou 

Hast  sucked  thyself  asleep  and  liest  without  a  dream, 

In  the  dismal  brass-bound  house,  where  on  thy  quiet 
brow 

Strikes  through  the  murky  gloom  the  night-lamp's  fitful 
gleam. 

And  the  wind  pipes  loud  and  shrill,  and  the  wave  goes 
o'er  thy  head ; 

But  thou  dost  not  heed  it,  sweet,  —  thy  clustering  curls 
are  dry. 

Beautiful  little  face  all  swathed  in  its  mantle  red ! 

Ah,  if  thou  didst  but  know  my  harrowing  misery  ! 

Heardest  a  tithe  of  my  complaints  !  — hush,  dear ; 

And  hush,  thou  noisy  sea  !  and  sleep,  my  sorrow  wild ! 

And  baffle  their  counsel,  father  Zeus,  who  left  us  here  ! 

Nay,  I  am  bold  to  say,  be  just  to  the  blameless  child  !  " 

H.  w.  p. 


WOULD  GOD  I  WERE  NOW  BY  THE  SEA! 

From  Euripides. 

TT70ULD  God  I  were  now  by  the  sea! 

'  ^       By  the  winding  wet-worn  caves, 
By  the  ragged  rents  of  the  rocks  ! 

And  that  there  as  a  bird  I  might  be 
White-winged  with  the  sea-skimmings  flocks ; 


8  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Where  the  spray  and  the  breeze  blow  free 

O'er  the  ceaseless  mirth  of  the  waves, 

And  dishevel  their  loose  gray  locks. 
I  would  spread  my  wings  to  the  moist,  salt  air, 
And  my  wide  white  wings  should  carry  me 

Lifted  up  out  over  the  sea,  — 

Carry  I  heed  not  where, 

Somewhither  far  away. 
Somewhither  far  from  my  hateful  home. 
Where  the  breast  of  the  breeze  is  sprinkled  with  spray, 
Where  the  restless  deep  is  maddened  with  glee  ; 

Over  the  waves'  wild  ecstasy, 

Through  the  wild  blown  foam  ! 

W.  H.  M. 


THE    CONTRAST. 

From  Moschus. 

O'ER  the  smooth  main,  when  scarce  a  zephyr  blows 
To  break  the  dark  blue  ocean's  deep  repose, 
I  seek  the  calmness  of  the  breathing  shore. 
Delighted  with  the  fields  and  woods  no  more. 

But  when  white-foaming  heave  the  deeps  on  high, 
Swells  the  black  storm  and  mingles  sea  with  sky, 
Trembling  I  fly  the  wild  tempestuous  strand, 
And  seek  the  close  recesses  of  the  land. 

Sweet  are  the  sounds  that  murmur  through  the  wood, 
While  roaring  storms  upheave  the  dangerous  flood  ; 


THE  RETURN  OF  SPRING.  9 

Then  if  the  winds  more  fiercely  howl,  they  rouse 
But  sweeter  music  in  the  pines'  tall  boughs. 

Hard  is  the  life  the  weary  fisher  finds, 
Who  trusts  his  floating  mansion  to  the  winds, 
Whose  daily  food  the  fickle  sea  maintains, 
Unchanging  labor  and  uncertain  gains. 

Be  mine  soft  sleep,  beneath  the  spreading  shade 
Of  some  broad  leafy  plane  inglorious  laid, 
Lulled  by  a  fountain's  fall  that,  murmuring  near, 
Soothes,  not  alarms,  the  toil-worn  laborer's  ear. 

Robert  Bland. 


THE    RETURN    OF    SPRING   TO    THE 
SAILOR. 

From  Philostratiis. 

TTASTE  to  the  port !     The  twittering  swallow  calls^ 
■*•  -*•     Again  returned  ;  the  wintry  breezes  sleep  ; 
The  meadows  laugh  ;  and  warm  the  zephyr  falls 
On  ocean's  breast,  and  calms  the  fearful  deep. 

Now  spring  your  cables,  loiterers  !  Spread  your  sails  ! 

O'er  the  smooth  surface  of  the  water  roam  ! 
So  shall  your  vessel  glide  with  friendly  gales, 

And  fraught  with  foreign  treasure  waft  you  home. 


lO  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

THE   LOOSING   OF   THE   WINDS. 

From  the  ^Eneid  of  Virgil,  Book  I. 

TTE  said,  and  with  his  spear  struck  wide 

-'-  -^     The  portals  of  the  mountain  side. 

At  once,  like  soldiers  in  a  band, 

Forth  rush  the  winds,  and  scour  the  land ; 

Then  hghting  heavily  on  the  main. 

East,  South,  and  West,  with  storms  in  train, 

Heave  from  its  depth  the  watery  floor, 

And  roll  great  billows  to  the  shore. 

Then  come  the  clamour  and  the  shriek, 

The  sailors  shout,  the  main-ropes  creak : 

All  in  a  moment  sun  and  skies 

Are  blotted  from  the  Trojans'  eyes  ; 

Black  night  is  brooding  o'er  the  deep, 

Sharp  thunder  peals,  live  hghtnings  leap  ; 

The  stoutest  warrior  holds  his  breath. 

And  looks  as  on  the  face  of  death. 

At  once  ^neas  thrilled  with  dread : 

Forth  from  his  breast,  with  hands  outspread, 

These  groaning  words  he  drew  : 

"  O  happy  thrice  and  yet  again. 

Who  died  at  Troy  like  valiant  men. 

E'en  in  their  parents'  view  ! 
O  Diomed,  first  of  Greeks  in  fray. 
Why  pressed  I  not  the  plain  that  day, 

Yielding  my  hfe  to  you, 


THE  LOOSING   OF  THE   WINDS.  Ii 

Where  stretched  beneath  a  Phrygian  sky 
Fierce  Hector,  tall  Sarpedon,  lie  ; 
Where  Simoi's  tumbles  'neath  his  wave 
Shields,  helms,  and  bodies  of  the  brave?" 

Now,  howhng  from  the  North,  the  gale, 

While  thus  he  moans  him,  strikes  his  sail ; 

The  swelling  surges  climb  the  sky  ; 

The  shattered  oars  in  splinters  fly  ; 

The  prow  turns  round,  and  to  the  tide 

Lays  broad  and  bare  the  vessel's  side ; 

On  comes  a  billow,  mountain-steep, 

Bears  down,  and  tumbles  in  a  heap. 

These  stagger  on  the  billows'  crest; 

Those  to  the  yawning  depth  deprest 

See  land  appearing  'mid  the  wavesj 

While  surf  with  sand  in  turmoil  raves. 

Three  ships  the  South  has  caught  and  thrown 

On  scarce-hid  rocks,  as  Altars  known, 

Ridging  the  main,  a  reef  of  stone. 

Three  more  fierce  Eurus  from  the  deep, 

A  sight  to  make  the  gazer  weep, 

Drives  on  the  shoals,  and  banks  them  round 

With  sand,  as  with  a  rampire-mound. 

One,  which  erewhile  from  Lycia's  shore 

Orontes  and  his  people  bore, 

E'en  in  Eneas'  anguished  sight, 

A  sea  down  crashing  from  the  height 

Strikes  full  astern  ;  the  pilot,  torn 

From  off  the  helm,  is  headlong  borne  ; 

Three  turns  the  foundered  vessel  gave, 

Then  sank  beneath  the  engulfing  wave. 


12  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

There  in  the  vast  abyss  are  seen 
The  swimmers,  few  and  far  between  ; 
And  warriors'  arms  and  shattered  wood 
And  Trojan  treasures  strew  the  flood. 
And  now  Ilioneus,  and  now 

Aletes  old  and  gray, 
Abas  and  brave  Achates  bow 

Beneath  the  tempesfs  sway  ; 
Fast  drinking  in  through  timbers  loose 
At  every  pore  the  fatal  ooze, 

Their  sturdy  barks  give  way. 

John  Conington. 


THE    LOOSING   OF   THE   WINDS. 

From  the  ^Eneid  of  Virgil,  Book  I. 

'TPHUS  having  said,  with  his  inverted  spear 

■^       He  smote  the  hollow  mountain  on  the  side. 
Then  forth  the  winds,  like  some  great  marching  host. 
Vent  being  given,  rush  turbulent,  and  blow 
In  whirling  storm  abroad  upon  the  lands  : 
Down  pressing  on  the  sea  from  lowest  depths 
Upturned,  Eurus  and  Notus  all  in  one 
Blowing,  and  Africus  with  rainy  squalls, 
Dense  on  the  vast  waves  rolling  to  the  shore. 
Then  follow  clamoring  shouts  of  men,  and  noise 
Of  whisthng  cordage.     On  a  sudden,  clouds 
Snatch  from  the  Trojans  all  the  light  of  day 
And  the  great  sky.     Black  night  lies  on  the  sea. 


THE  LOOSING   OF   THE    WINDS.  13 

The  thunder  rolls  ;  the  incessant  lightnings  flash  ; 
And  to  the  crews  all  bodes  a  present  death. 
Eneas'  limbs  relax  with  sudden  cold  ; 
Groaning,  his  hands  he  stretches  to  the  stars. 
"Oh,  thrice  and  four  times  happy  they,"  he  cries, 
"  To  whom  befell  beneath  Troy's  lofty  walls 
To  encounter  death  before  their  fathers'  eyes  ! 
O  Diomed,  thou  bravest  of  the  Greeks, 
Why  could  I  not  have  fallen  on  Ilium's  fields, 
Pouring  my  warm  life  out  beneath  thy  hand  ? 
Where  valiant  Hector  lies,  by  Achilles'  spear 
Slain,  and  where  tall  Sarpedon  was  overthrown, — 
Where  Simois  rolls  along,  bearing  away 
Beneath  his  waves  so  many  shields  and  casques, 
So  many  corpses  of  brave  heroes  slain  !  " 

Thus  while  he  cried  aloud,  a  roaring  blast 

From  out  the  north  strikes  full  against  the  sails, 

And  the  waves  touch  the  stars  :  the  oars  are  snapped; 

The  ship  swings  round,  and  gives  to  the  waves  its  side. 

A  steep  and  watery  mountain  rolls  apace  : 

Some  on  its  summit  hang  ;  and  some  beneath 

Behold  the  earth  between  the  yawning  waves ; 

Mingled  with  sand  the  boiling  waters  hiss. 

On  hidden  rocks  three  ships  the  south  wind  hurls. 

Rocks  by  the  Italian  sailors  Altars  called; 

A  vast  ridge  on  a  level  with  the  sea. 

TliTee  others  by  the  East  wind  from  the  deep 

Are  driven  upon  the  quicksands  and  the  shoals, — 

Dreadful  to  see,  — upon  the  shallows  dashed, 

And  girt  around  by  drifting  heaps  of  sand. 


14  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

One,  that  conveyed  the  Lycians,  and  that  bore 

Faithful  Orontes,  there,  before  his  eyes, 

A  huge  sea  from  above  strikes  on  the  stern. 

Dashing  the  pilot  headlong  on  die  waves. 

Three  times  the  surges  whirl  the  ship  around, 

I  n  the  swift  vortex  of  the  sea  engulfed  ; 

Then  scattered  swimmers  in  the  vast  abyss 

Are  seen,  and  arms  and  planks  and  Trojan  spoils. 

Now  the  strong  ship  of  Dioneus,  now 

Of  brave  Achates,  and  the  barks  that  bore 

Abas  and  old  Aletes,  are  overwhelmed. 

And  all  their  yawning  sides  with  loosened  joints 

Drink  in  the  bitter  drench. 

Christopher  Pearse  Cranch. 


THE    SONG    OF    THE   ARGONAUTS. 

From  "The  Life  and  Death  of  Jason." 

/^  BITTER  sea,  tumultuous  sea, 

^-^     Full  many  an  ill  is  wrought  by  thee  ! 

Unto  the  wasters  of  the  land 

Thou  boldest  out  thy  wrinkled  hand  ; 

And  when  they  leave  the  conquered  town. 

Whose  black  smoke  makes  thy  surges  brown. 

Driven  betwixt  thee  and  the  sun. 

As  the  long  day  of  blood  is  done. 

From  many  a  league  of  glittering  waves 

Thou  smilest  on  them  and  their  slaves. 


THE  SONG   OF  THE  ARGONAUTS.         15 

The  thin,  bright-eyed  Phenician 
Thou  drawest  to  thy  waters  wan  ; 
With  ruddy  eve  and  golden  morn 
Thou  temptest  him,  until  forlorn, 
Unburied  under  alien  skies 
Cast  up  ashore  his  body  lies. 
Yea,  whoso  sees  thee  from  his  door 
Must  ever  long  for  more  and  more  ; 
Nor  will  the  beechen  bowl  suffice, 
Or  homespun  robe  of  little  price, 
Or  hood  well-woven  of  the  fleece 
Undyed,  or  unspiced  wine  of  Greece  ; 
So  sore  his  heart  is  set  upon 
Purple  and  gold  and  cinnamon  ; 
For,  as  thou  cravest,  so  he  craves, 
Until  he  rolls  beneath  thy  waves. 
Nor  in  some  land-locked  unknown  bay 
Can  satiate  thee  for  one  day. 

Now  therefore,  O  thou  bitter  sea. 
With  no  long  words  we  pray  to  thee. 
But  ask  thee,  hast  thou  felt  before 
Such  strokes  of  the  long  ashen  oar  ? 
And  hast  thou  yet  seen  such  a  prow 
Thy  rich  and  niggard  waters  plow  ? 
Nor  yet,  O  sea,  shalt  thou  be  cursed, 
If  at  thy  hands  we  gain  the  worst, 
And,  wrapped  in  water,  roll  about 
Blind-eyed,  unheeding  song  or  shout, 
Within  thine  eddies  far  from  shore. 
Warmed  by  no  sunlight  any  more. 


;i6  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Therefore  indeed  we  joy  in  thee, 
And  praise  thy  greatness,  and  will  we 
Take  at  thy  hands  both  good  and  ill. 
Yea,  what  thou  wilt,  and  praise  thee  still. 
Enduring  not  to  sit  at  home 
And  wait  until  the  last  days  come. 
When  we  no  more  may  care  to  hold 
White  bosoms  under  crowns  of  gold, 
And  our  dull  hearts  no  longer  are 
Stirred  by  the  clangorous  noise  of  war, 
And  hope  within  our  souls  is  dead 
And  no  joy  is  remembered. 

So,  if  thou  hast  a  mind  to  slay, 
Fair  prize  thou  hast  of  us  to-day ; 
And  if  thou  hast  a  mind  to  save. 
Great  praise  and  honor  shalt  thou  have  : 
But  whatso  thou  wilt  do  with  us, 
Our  end  shall  not  be  piteous. 
Because  our  memories  shall  live 
When  folk  forget  the  way  to  drive 
The  black  keel  through  the  heaped-up  sea, 
And  half  dried  up  thy  waters  be. 

William  Morris. 


THE   SONG   OF   THE    SIRENS. 

From  "The  Life  and  Death  of  Jason." 

A  LAS  !  poor  souls  and  timorous, 
-^-^     Will  ye  draw  nigh  to  gaze  at  us 
And  see  if  we  are  fair  indeed. 
For  such  as  we  shall  be  your  meed. 


THE  SONG   OF  THE  SIRENS.  17 

There,  where  our  hearts  would  have  you  go. 

And  where  can  the  earth-dwellers  show 

In  any  land  such  loveliness 

As  that  wherewith  your  eyes  we  bless, 

O  wanderers  of  the  Minyas, 

Worn  toilers  over  land  and  sea  ? 

If  ye  be  bold  with  us  to  go, 
Things  such  as  happy  dreams  may  show 
Shall  your  once  heavy  eyes  behold 
About  our  palaces  of  gold  ; 
Where  waters  'neath  the  waters  run, 
And  from  o'erhead  a  harmless  sun 
Gleams  through  the  woods  of  chrysolite. 
There  gardens  fairer  to  the  sight 
Than  those  of  the  Phaeacian  king 
Shall  ye  behold  ;  and,  wondering, 
Gaze  on  the  sea-born  fruit  and  flowers, 
And  thornless  and  unchanging  bowers. 
Whereof  the  May-time  knoweth  nought. 
%  So  to  the  pillared  house  being  brought, 

w  Poor  souls,  ye  shall  not  be  alone  ; 

For  o'er  the  floors  of  pale  blue  stone 

All  day  such  feet  as  ours  shall  pass. 

And,  'twixt  the  glimmering  walls  of  glass, 

Such  bodies  garlanded  with  gold. 

So  faint,  so  fair,  shall  ye  behold. 

And  clean  forget  the  treachery 

Of  changing  earth  and  tumbling  sea. 

Shall  we  not  rise  with  you  at  night. 
Up  through  the  shimmering  green  twilight. 


l8  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

That  maketh  there  our  changeless  day  ; 
Then  going  through  the  moonhght  gray, 
Shall  we  not  sit  upon  those  sands, 
To  think  upon  the  troublous  lands 
Long  left  behind,  where  once  ye  were, 
When  every  day  brought  change  and  fear  ? 
There,  with  white  arms  about  you  twined, 
And  shuddering  somewhat  at  the  wind 
That  ye  rejoiced  erewhile  to  meet. 
Be  happy,  while  old  stories  sweet. 
Half-understood,  jfloat  round  your  ears, 
And  fill  your  eyes  with  happy  tears. 

Ah  !  while  we  sing  unto  you  there, 
As  now  we  sing,  with  yellow  hair 
Blown  round  about  these  pearly  limbs, 
While  underneath  the  gray  sky  swims 
The  light  shell-sailor  of  the  waves. 
And,  to  our  song,  from  sea-filled  caves 
Booms  out  an  echoing  harmony. 
Shall  ye  not  love  the  peaceful  sea  ? 

Come  to  the  land  where  none  grows  old 
And  none  is  rash  or  overbold, 
Nor  any  noise  there  is,  or  war, 
Or  rumor  from  wild  lands  afar, 
Or  plagues,  or  birth  and  death  of  kings  ; 
No  vain  desire  of  unknown  things 
Shall  vex  you  there,  no  hope  or  fear 
Of  that  which  never  draweth  near ; 
But  in  that  lovely  land  and  still 
Ye  may  remember  what  ye  will, 


THE  LOTUS-EATERS.  19 

And  what  ye  will,  forget  for  aye. 

So,  while  the  kingdoms  pass  away, 
Ye  sea-beat,  hardened  toilers,  erst 
Unresting,  for  vain  fame  athirst. 
Shall  be  at  peace  for  evermore, 
With  hearts  fulfilled  with  Godlike  lore 
And  calm  unwavering  Godlike  love. 
No  lapse  of  time  can  turn  or  move. 
There,  ages  after  your  fair  fleece 
Is  clean  forgotten,  yea,  and  Greece 
Is  no  more  counted  glorious, 
Alone  with  us,  alone  with  us, 
Alone  with  us  dwell  happily, 
Beneath  our  trembhng  roof  of  sea. 

William  Morris. 


THE   LOTOS-EATERS. 

"  /"^OURAGE,"  he  said,  and  pointed   towards   the 

^         land, 
"  This  mounting  wave  will  roll  us  shoreward  soon." 
In  the  afternoon  they  came  unto  a  land 
In  which  it  seemed  always  afternoon. 
All  round  the  coast  the  languid  air  did  swoon, 
Breathing  like  one  that  hath  a  weary  dream. 
Full-faced  above  the  valley  shone  the  moon  ; 
And,  hke  a  downward  smoke,  the  slender  stream 
Along  the  cliif  to  fall,  and  pause  and  fall,  did  seem. 

A  land  of  streams  !     Some,  Hke  a  downward  smoke, 
Slow-dropping  veils  of  thinnest  lawn,  did  go  ; 


20  SEA    AND  SHORE. 

And  some  through  wavering  h'ghts  and  shadows  broke, 

RolHng  a  slumberous  sheet  of  foam  below. 

They  saw  the  gleaming  river  seaward  flow 

From  the  inner  land :  far  off,  three  mountain-tops, 

Three  silent  pinnacles  of  aged  snow, 

Stood  sunset-flushed;  and,  dewed  with  showery  drops, 

Up-clomb  the  shadowy  pine  above  the  woven  copse. 

The  charmdd  sunset  lingered  low  adown 

In  the  red  West  •,   through  mountain  clefts  the  dale 

Was  seen  far  inland,  and  the  yellow  down 

Bordered  with  palm,  and  many  a  winding  vale 

And  meadow  set  with  slender  galingale  ; 

A  land  where  all  things  always  seemed  the  same ! 

And  round  about  the  keel  with  faces  pale. 

Dark  faces  pale  against  that  rosy  flame. 

The  mild-eyed,  melancholy  Lotos-eaters  came. 

Branches  they  bore  of  that  enchanted  stem 
Laden  with  flower  and  fruit,  whereof  they  gave 
To  each  ;  but  whoso  did  receive  of  them 
And  taste,  to  him  the  gushing  of  the  wave 
Far,  far  away  did  seem  to  mourn  and  rave 
On  alien  shores  ;  and  if  his  fellow  spake. 
His  voice  was  thin  as  voices  from  the  grave ; 
And  deep-asleep  he  seemed,  yet  all  awake, 
And  music  in  his  ears  his  beating  heart  did  make. 

They  sat  them  down  upon  the  yellow  sand, 
Between  the  sun  and  moon,  upon  the  shore  ; 
And  sweet  it  was  to  dream  of  Fatherland, 
Of  child,  and  wife,  and  slave  ;  —  but  evermore 


SAPPHO.  21 

Most  weary  seemed  the  sea,  weary  the  oar, 
Weary  the  wandering  fields  of  barren  foam. 
Then  some  one  said,  "  We  will  return  no  more," 
And  all  at  once  they  sang,  "  Our  island-home 
Is  far  beyond  the  wave ;  we  will  no  longer  roam." 

Alfred  Tennyson. 


SAPPHO. 

OHE  lay  among  the  myrtles  on  the  clifif ; 

*^     Above  her  glared  the  noon  ;  beneath,  the  sea. 

Upon  the  white  horizon  Athos'  peak 

Weltered  in  burning  haze  :  all  airs  were  dead  ; 

The  cicale  slept  among  the  tamarisk's  hair  ; 

The  birds  sat  dumb  and  drooping.     Far  below 

The  lazy  sea-weed  gHstened  in  the  sun  ; 

The  lazy  sea-fowl  dried  their  steaming  wings  ; 

The  lazy  swell  crept  whispering  up  the  ledge. 

And  sank  again.     Great  Pan  was  laid  to  rest ; 

And  Mother  Earth  watched  by  him  as  he  slept, 

And  hushed  her  myriad  children  for  awhile. 

She  lay  among  the  myrtles  on  the  cliff ; 

And  sighed  for  sleep,  for  sleep  that  would  not  hear, 

But  left  her  tossing  still  ;  for  night  and  day 

A  mighty  hunger  yearned  within  her  heart. 

Till  all  her  veins  ran  fever,  and  her  cheek, 

Her  long  thin  hands,  and  ivory-channell'd  feet, 

Were  wasted  with  the  wasting  of  her  soul. 

Then  peevishly  she  flung  her  on  her  face, 

And  hid  her  eyeballs  from  the  blinding  glare, 


i2  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

And  fingered  at  the  grass,  and  tried  to  cool 
Her  crisp  hot  hps  against  the  crisp  hot  sward  : 
And  then  she  raised  her  head,  and  upward  cast 
Wild  looks  from  homeless  eyes,  whose  liquid  light 
Gleamed  out  between  deep  folds  of  blue-black  hair, 
As  gleam  twin  lakes  between  the  purple  peaks 
Of  deep  Parnassus,  at  the  mournful  moon. 
Beside  her  lay  her  lyre.     She  snatched  the  shell, 
And  waked  wild  music  from  its  silver  strings  ; 
Then  tossed  it  sadly  by.  —  "  Ah,  hush  !  "  she  cries, 
"  Dead  offspring  of  the  tortoise  and  the  mine  ! 
Why  mock  my  discords  with  thine  harmonies  ? 
Although  a  thrice-Olympian  lot  be  thine. 
Only  to  echo  back  in  every  tone 
The  moods  of  nobler  natures  than  thine  own." 

Charles  Kingsley. 


THE   FISHERMAN'S    HUT. 

From  Stolle. 

"  C^O,  boy,  and  light  the  torch  !  the  night 

^-^     Is  damp  and  dark  and  drear : 
Thy  father  sails  from  foreign  lands, 
His  ship  must  soon  be  near." 

The  boy  sets  fire  to  the  torch, 

And  hastens  to  the  strand; 
The  storm-wind  howls,  the  rain  pours  down, 

The  torch  dies  in  his  hand. 


THE  FISHERMArrS  HUT.  23 

The  boy  flies  homeward  :  "  Mother  dear, 

Send  me  not  out  again  ! 
•The  storm  did  howl,  and  the  wind  did  blow. 

And  the  torch  went  out  in  the  rain." 

"  O  sailor's  blood  !     O  sailor's  blood  ! 

No  sailor's  blood  art  thou  ! 
What  cares  a  brisk  young  sailor's  blood 

How  wild  the  tempests  blow !  " 

The  boy  sets  fire  to  the  torch, 

He  hastens  to  the  shore  ; 
The  tempest  howls,  the  rain  pours  down, 

The  torch  goes  out  once  more. 

The  boy  flies  home  :  "  O  mother  dear, 

Send  me  not  to  the  strand  ! 
There's  a  white  woman  sitting  there, 

And  beckoning  with  her  hand  !  " 

"  O  sailor's  blood  !     O  sailor's  blood  ! 

No  sailor's  blood  art  thou  ! 
Naught  does  the  brave  warm  sailor's  blood 

For  mermaid  care,  I  trow  !  " 

The  boy  sets  fire  to  the  torch. 

And  hastens  to  the  shore  ; 
The  tempest  howls,  the  rain  pours  down. 

The  torch  dies  yet  once  more. 

The  boy  flies  home  :  "  O  mother,  go 

Thyself  now  to  the  shore  ! 
I  hear  a  voice  Hke  father's  rise 

Through  all  the  ocean's  roar." 


24  SEA  AND  SHORE. 

The  mother  quickly  lifts  the  torch, 

And  sets  the  hut  on  fire  ; 
The  tempest  howls,  the  lurid  flame 

Shines  brighter,  broader,  higher. 

"  What  hast  thou  done  ?     O  mother,  woe  ! 

Hear'st  thou  the  tempest's  roar  ! 
How  cold  the  night,  how  dark  and  wild,  — 

And  we've  a  home  no  more." 

"  O  sailor's  blood  !     O  sailor's  blood  ! 

No  sailor's  blood  art  thou  ! 
Boy,  when  no  other  torch  will  burn, 

The  hut  shines  well,  I  trow." 

The  father  safely  steers  his  ship 

Right  to  the  blazing  strand, 
Weathers  the  ledges  all,  and  soon 

In  safety  reached  the  land. 

C.  T.  Brooks. 


COUNT   ARNALDOS. 

A  literal  translation  in  the  metre  of  the  original. 

WHO  had  ever  such  adventure, 
On  the  waters  of  the  sea, 
As  had  once  the  Count  Arnaldos 
On  the  morning  of  Saint  John  ? 
He  was  going  to  the  hawking. 
With  a  falcon  on  his  wrist, 


COUNT  ARNALDOS,  25 

When  at  sea  he  saw  a  galley 
Slowly  drawing  near  the  land. 
All  her  sails  of  woven  silk  were  ; 
Glistening  silk  the  cordage  all ; 
And  the  mariner  who  steered  her 
Ever  sang  so  sweet  a  song 
That  it  held  the  billows  quiet, 
And  it  pacified  the  wind, 
And  the  fishes  rose  to  listen, 
And  the  birds  lit  on  the  mast. 
"  Galley,"  sang  he,  "  O  my  galley, 
May  God  keep  thee  from  all  harm, 
From  all  dangers  that  await  thee 
On  the  waters  of  the  sea  ; 
From  the  shallows  of  Almeria, 
From  Gibraltar's  narrow  strait, 
From  the  stormy  gulf  of  Leon, 
And  the  false  Venetian  sea ; 
From  the  sunken  reefs  of  Flanders, 
Where  the  peril  is  most  dire." 
Then  spake  out  the  Count  Arnaldos 
(You  shall  hear  the  words  he  said) : 
"  In  the  name  of  God,  O  seaman, 
Sing  to  me  again  this  song  !  " 
Then  the  mariner  made  answer, 
And  his  answer  was  but  this  : 
"  I  can  tell  this  song  to  no  one. 
Save  to  him  who  sails  with  me." 


26  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

COUNT   ARNALDOS. 

From  the  Spanish. 
I. 

TT  7H0  had  ever  such  adventure, 

'  ^     Holy  priest  or  virgin  nun, 
As  befel  the  Count  Arnaldos 
At  the  rising  of  the  sun  ? 

II. 

On  h's  wrist  the  hawk  was  hooded, 
Forth  with  hern  and  hound  went  he. 

When  he  saw  a  stately  galley 
Sailing  on  the  silent  sea. 

III. 
Sail  of  sattin,  mast  of  cedar  ; 

Burnished  poop  of  beaten  gold, — 
Many  a  morn  you'll  hood  your  falcon. 

Ere  you  such  a  bark  behold. 

IV. 

Sails  of  sattin,  masts  of  cedar, 
Golden  poops,  may  come  again  ; 

But  mortal  ear  no  more  shall  listen 
To  yon  gray-haired  sailor's  strain. 

V. 
Heart  may  beat,  and  eye  may  glisten. 

Faith  is  strong,  and  hope  is  free  ; 
But  mortal  ear  no  more  shall  listen 

To  the  song  that  rules  the  sea. 


COUNT  ARNALDOS.  27 


When  the  gray-haired  sailor  chanted, 
Every  wind  was  hush'd  to  sleep,  — 

Like  a  virgin's  bosom  panted 
All  the  wide  reposing  deep. 

VII. 

Bright  in  beauty  rose  the  star-fish 
From  her  green  cave  down  below. 

Right  above  the  eagle  poised  him,  — 
Holy  music  charmed  them  so. 

VIII. 

"  Stately  galley  !  glorious  galley  ! 

God  hath  pour'd  his  grace  on  thee  ! 
Thou  alone  may'st  scorn  the  perils 

Of  the  dread  devouring  sea  ! 

IX. 

"  False  Almeria's  reefs  and  shallows, 
Black  Gibraltar's  giant  rocks, 

Sound  and  sand-bank,  gulf  and  whirlpool, 
All  —  my  glorious  galley  mocks  !  " 

X. 

"  For  the  sake  of  God  our  maker  !  " 
(Count  Arnaldos'  cry  was  strong,) 

"  Old  man,  let  me  be  partaker 
In  the  secret  of  thy  song  !  " 


28  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


XI. 

"  Count  Arnaldos  !  Count  Arnaldos  ! 

Hearts  I  read,  and  thoughts  I  know  ;  — 
Would'st  thou  learn  the  ocean  secret, 

In  our  galley  thou  must  go." 

J.    G.    LOCKHART. 


THE    SECRET   OF    THE    SEA. 

A  H  !  what  pleasant  visions  haunt  me, 
■^  ^     As  I  gaze  upon  the  sea  ! 
All  the  old  romantic  legends, 
All  my  dreams  come  back  to  me. 

Sails  of  silk  and  ropes  of  sendal, 
Such  as  gleam  in  ancient  lore  ; 

And  the  singing  of  the  sailors. 
And  the  answer  from  the  shore  ! 

Most  of  all,  the  Spanish  ballad 
Haunts  me  oft,  and  tarries  long, 

Of  the  noble  Count  Arnaldos 
And  the  sailor's  mystic  song. 

Like  the  long  waves  on  a  sea-beach, 
Where  the  sand  as  silver  shines, 

With  a  soft,  monotonous  cadence, 
Flow  its  unrhymed  lyric  lines  :  — 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  SEA.  29 

Telling  how  the  Count  Arnaldo^, 

With  his  hawk  upon  his  hand, 
Saw  a  fair  and  stately  galley, 

Steering  onward  to  the  land  ;  — 

How  he  heard  the  ancient  helmsman 

Chant  a  song  so  wild  and  clear, 
That  the  saiHng  sea-bird  slowly 

Poised  upon  the  mast  to  hear, 

Till  his  soul  was  full  of  longing. 

And  he  cried,  with  impulse  strong,  — 

"  Helmsman  !  for  the  love  of  heaven. 
Teach  me,  too,  that  wondrous  song  !  " 

"Would'st  thou,"  so  the  helmsman  answered, 

"  Learn  the  secret  of  the  sea  ? 
Only  those  who  brave  its  dangers 

Comprehend  its  mystery  !  " 

In  each  sail  that  skims  the  horizon. 

In  each  landward-blowing  breeze, 
I  behold  that  stately  galley. 

Hear  those  mournful  melodies  ; 

Till  my  soul  is  full  of  longing 

For  the  secret  of  the  sea. 
And  the  heart  of  the  great  ocean 

Sends  a  thrilhng  pulse  through  me. 

Henry  W.  Longfellow. 


30  SEA    AND  SHORE. 

FAR,   FAR   AWAY,  ACROSS    THE    SEA. 

Theodore  Aubenel. 

"CTAR,  far  away,  across  the  sea, 

•^        In  the  still  hours  when  I  sit  dreaming, 

Often  and  often  I  voyage  in  seeming. 

And  sad  is  the  heart  I  bear  with  me 

Far,  far  away,  across  the  sea. 

Yonder  toward  the  Dardanelles, 
I  follow  the  vessels  disappearing. 
Slender  masts  to  the  sky  uprearing. 
Follow  her,  whom  I  love  so  well. 
Yonder  toward  the  Dardanelles. 

With  the  great  clouds  I  go  astray, — 
These  by  the  shepherd-wind  are  driven 
Across  the  shining  stars  of  heaven, 
In  snowy  flocks,  and  go  their  way, 
And  with  the  clouds  I  go  astray. 

I  take  the  pinions  of  the  swallow. 
For  the  fair  weather  ever  yearning, 
And  swiftly  to  the  sun  returning. 
So  swiftly  I  my  darling  follow 
Upon  the  pinions  of  the  swallow. 

Home-sickness  hath  my  heart  possessed, 
For  now  she  treads  an  alien  strand. 
And  for  that  unknown  fatherland 
I  long  as  a  bird  for  her  nest. 
Home-sickness  hath  my  heart  possessed. 


THE  KING   OF  THULE.  31 

From  wave  to  wave  the  salt  sea  over, 
Like  a  pale  corpse  I  alway  seem, 
On-floating  in  a  deathlike  dream, 
Even  to  the  feet  of  my  sweet  lover. 
From  wave  to  wave  the  salt  sea  over. 

Now  I  am  lying  on  the  shore, 
Till  my  love  lifts  me  mutely  weeping, 
And  takes  me  in  her  tender  keeping. 
And  lays  her  hand  my  still  heart  o'er, 
And  calls  me  from  the  dead  once  more. 

H.  w.  P. 


THE  KING   OF   THULE. 

Goethe. 

'T^HERE  was  a  king  in  Thule 

•*■       Was  faithful  till  the  grave,  — 
To  whom  his  mistress,  dying, 
A  golden  goblet  gave. 

Naught  was  to  him  more  precious  ; 
He  drained  it  at  every  bout : 
His  eyes  with  tears  ran  over. 
As  oft  as  he  drank  thereout. 

When  came  his  time  of  dying, 
The  towns  in  his  land  he  told. 
Naught  else  to  his  heir  denying 
Except  the  goblet  of  gold. 


32  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

He  sat  at  the  royal  banquet 
With  his  knights  of  high  degree. 
In  the  lofty  hall  of  his  fathers, 
In  the  castle  by  the  sea. 

There  stood  the  old  carouser, 
And  drank  the  last  Hfe  glow  ; 
And  hurled  the  hallowed  goblet 
Into  the  tide  below. 

He  saw  it  plunging  and  filling, 
And  sinking  deep  in  the  sea  : 
Then  fell  his  eyelids  forever, 
And  never  more  drank  he. 

Bayard  Taylor. 


THE    SWALLOW. 

F.  Grossi. 

O  WALLOW  from  beyond  the  sea! 
*^  That,  with  every  dawning  day, 
Sitting  on  the  balcony, 

Utterest  that  plaintive  lay. 
What  is  that  thou  tellest  me 
Swallow  from  beyond  the  sea? 

Haply  thou  for  him  who  went 
From  thee  and  forgot  his  mate 

Dost  lament  to  my  lament, 
Widowed,  lonely,  desolate. 

Even  then  lament  with  me, 

Swallow  from  beyond  the  sea ! 


THE  SWALLOW.  2)Z 

Happier  yet  art  thou  than  I : 
Thee  thy  trusty  wings  may  bear, 

Over  lake  and  chff  to  fly, 

Filling  with  thy  cries  the  air. 

Calling  him  continually. 

Swallow  from  beyond  the  sea ! 

Could  I  too  !  —  but  I  must  pine 

In  this  dungeon  dark  and  low, 
Where  the  sun  can  never  shine. 

Where  the  breeze  can  never  blow. 
Whence  my  voice  scarce  reaches  thee, 
Swallow  from  beyond  the  sea  ! 

Now  September  days  are  near, 

Thou  to  distant  lands  wilt  fly  ; 
In  another  hemisphere 

Other  streams  shall  hear  thy  cry, 
Other  hills  shall  answer  thee, 
Swallow  from  beyond  the  sea  ! 

Then  shall  I,  when  daylight  grows, 

Waking  to  the  sense  of  pain, 
'Mid  the  wintry  frosts  and  snqws 

Think  I  hear  thy  notes  again,  — 
Notes  that  seem  to  grieve  for  me. 
Swallow  from  beyond  the  sea  ! 

Planted  here  upon  the  ground, 
Thou  shalt  find  a  cross  in  spring  : 

3 


34  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

There,  as  evening  gathers  round, 

Swallow,  come  and  rest  thy  wing  ; 
Chant  a  strain  of  peace  to  me, 
Swallow  from  beyond  the  sea  ! 

William  Cullen  Bryant. 


o 


THE   SEA. 

From  the  German. 


SEA,  in  evening's  glow, 


Upon  thy  tranquil  breast, 
After  long  storm  and  woe 
I  breathe  a  heavenly  rest. 

Thy  troubled  heart  forgets 
The  weary  war  of  yore, 

Its  moans  and  drear  regrets 
Are  melody  once  more. 

Barely  one  voiceless  thought 
May  through  the  spirit  float, 

As  on  the  silent  sea 
A  solitary  boat. 


M.  C.  Pike. 


KING    CHRISTIAN. 

A  national  song  of  Denmark.     By  Ewald. 

T^  ING  Christian  stood  by  the  lofty  mast 
-■-^     In  mist  and  smoke  ; 
His  sword  was  hammering  so  fast. 
Through  Gothic  helm  and  brain  it  passed ; 
Then  sank  each  hostile  hulk  and  mast, 


KING   CHRISTIAN.  35 

In  mist  and  smoke. 
•'  Fly  ! "  shouted  they,  "fly,  he  who  can  ! 
Who  braves  of  Denmark's  Christian 

The  stroke  ?  " 

Nils  Juel  gave  heed  to  the  tempest's  roar, 

Now  is  the  hour  ! 
He  hoisted  his  blood-red  flag  once  more, 
And  smote  upon  the  foe  full  sore, 
And  shouted  loud,  through  the  tempest's  roar, 

"  Now  is  the  hour  !  " 
"  Fly  !  "  shouted  they,  "  for  shelter  fly  ! 
Of  Denmark's  Juel  who  can  defy 

The  power  ?  " 

North  Sea !  a  glimpse  of  Wessel  rent 

Thy  murky  sky ! 
Then  champions  to  thine  arms  were  sent ; 
Terror  and  Death  glared  where  he  went, 
From  the  waves  was  heard  a  wail,  that  rent 

Thy  murky  sky  ! 
From  Denmark,  thunders  Tordenskiol' ; 
Let  each  to  Heaven  commend  his  soul, 

And  fly ! 

Path  of  the  Dane  to  fame  and  might ! 

Dark-rolhng  wave  ! 
Receive  thy  friend,  who,  scorning  flight. 
Goes  to  meet  danger  with  despite, 
Proudly  as  thou  the  tempest's  might, 


36  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Dark-rolling  wave  ! 

And  amid  pleasures  and  alarms, 

And  war  and  victory,  be  thine  arms 

My  grave  ! 

H.  W.  Longfellow. 

BALLAD. 

A.D.    1400. 
I. 

TT  was  Earl  Haldan's  daughter, 
-*■      She  looked  across  the  sea  ; 
She  looked  across  the  water. 
And  long  and  loud  laughed  she  : 
"  The  locks  of  six  princesses 
Must  be  my  marriage  fee  : 
So,  hey,  bonny  boat,  and  ho,  bonny  boat, 
Who  comes  a-wooing  me  !  " 

II. 
It  was  Earl  Haldan's  daughter. 
She  walked  along  the  sand. 
When  she  was  aware  of  a  knight  so  fair. 
Come  sailing  to  the  land. 
His  sails  were  all  of  velvet. 
His  mast  of  beaten  gold, 
And  "  Hey,  bonny  boat,  and  ho,  bonny  boat, 
Who  saileth  here  so  bold  ? " 

III. 
"  The  locks  of  five  princesses 
I  won  beyond  the  sea  ; 
I  shore  their  golden  tresses 
To  fringe  a  cloak  for  thee. 


THE    WATER-MAN.  37. 

One  handful  yet  is  wanting,  -    .        ■ 

But  one  of  all  the  tale  ; 
So,  hey,  bonny  boat,  and  ho,  bonny  boat, 
Furl  up  thy  velvet  sail !  " 

IV. 

He  leapt  into  the  water, 
That  rover  young  and  bold  ; 
He  gript  Earl  Haldan's  daughter, 
He  shore  her  locks  of  gold  :  ' 

"  Go  weep,  go  weep,  proud  maiden. 
The  tale  is  full  to-day.  ' 

Now,  hey,  bonny  boat,  and  ho,  bonny  boat, 
Sail  Westward  ho,  and  away  !  " 

Charles  Kingsley. 


THE   WATER-MAN. 

An  old  Danish  ballad. 


"O 


MOTHER,  rede  me  well,  I  pray, 
How  shall  I  woo  me  yon  winsome  May  ?  " 


She  has  built  him  a  horse  of  the  water  clear, 
The  saddle  and  bridle  of  sea-sand  were. 

He  has  donned  the  garb  of  a  knight  so  gay. 
And  to  Mary's  kirk  he  has  ridden  away. 

He  tied  his  steed  to  the  chancel  door. 

And  he  stepped  round  the  kirk  three  times  and  four. 

He  has  boune  him  into  the  kirk,  and  all 
Drew  near  to  gaze  on  him,  great  and  small. 


38  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

The  priest  he  was  standing  in  the  quire  :  — 

*'  What  gay  young  gallant  comes  branking  here  ?  " 

The  winsome  maid,  to  herself  said  she, 

"  Oh,  were  that  gay  young  gallant  for  me  !  " 

He  stepped  o'er  one  stool,  he  stepped  o'er  two : 
"  O  maiden,  plight  me  thine  oath  so  true  !  " 

He  stepped  o'er  three  stools,  he  stepped  o'er  four : 
"  Wilt  be  mine,  sweet  May,  for  evermore  ?  " 

She  gave  him  her  hand  of  the  drifted  snow : 

"  Here  hast  thou  my  troth,  and  with  thee  I'll  go." 

They  went  from  the  kirk  with  the  bridal  train  ; 
They  danced  in  glee,  and  they  danced  full  fain  ; 

They  danced  them  down  to  the  salt-sea  strand. 
And  they  left  them  standing  there,  hand  in  hand. 

"  Now  wait  thee,  love,  with  my  steed  so  free, 
And  the  bonniest  bark  I'll  bring  for  thee." 

And  when  they  passed  to  the  white,  white  sand, 
The  ships  came  sailing  on  to  the  land ; 

But  when  they  were  out  in  the  midst  of  the  sound, 
Down  went  they  all  in  the  deep  profound  ! 

Long,  long  on  the  shore,  when  the  winds  were  high. 
They  heard  from  the  waters  the  maiden's  cry. 

I  rede  ye,  damsels,  as  best  I  can. 

Tread  not  the  dance  with  the  Water-man  ! 

Theodore  Marth*. 


BLACK-EYED  SUSAN.  39 


SWEET  WILLIAM'S   FAREWELL  TO 
BLACK-EYED    SUSAN. 

\  LL  in  the  Downs  the  fleet  was  moored, 
"^  *■     The  streamers  waving  in  the  wind, 
When  black-eyed  Susan  came  aboard. 

"  Oh,  where  shall  I  my  true-love  find  ? 
Tell  me,  ye  jovial  sailors,  tell  me  true, 
If  my  sweet  William  sails  among  your  crew." 

WiUiam,  who  high  upon  the  yard 
Rocked  with  the  billows  to  and  fro, 

Soon  as  her  well-known  voice  he  heard, 
He  sighed  and  cast  his  eyes  below ; 

The  cord  slides  swiftly  through  his  glowing  hands, 

And  quick  as  lightning  on  the  deck  he  stands. 

So  the  sweet  lark,  high  poised  in  air, 
Shuts  close  his  pinions  to  his  breast, 

If  chance  his  mate's  shrill  call  he  hear, 
And  drops  at  once  into  her  nest. 

The  noblest  captain  in  the  British  fleet 

Might  envy  William's  lip  those  kisses  sweet. 

"  O  Susan,  Susan,  lovely  dear, 

My  vows  shall  ever  true  remain ; 
Let  me  kiss  off  that  falling  tear  ; 

We  only  part  to  meet  again. 
Change  as  ye  list,  ye  winds  :  my  heart  shall  be 
The  faithful  compass  that  still  points  to  thee. 


40  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

"  Believe  not  what  the  landsmen  say, 

Who  tempt  with  doubts  thy  constant  mind : 

They'll  tell  thee  sailors  when  away 
In  every  port  a  mistress  find. 

Yes,  yes,  believe  them  when  they  tell  thee  so^ 

For  thou  art  present  wheresoe'er  I  go. 

"  If  to  fair  India's  coast  we  sail, 

Thy  eyes  are  seen  in  diamonds  bright, 

Thy  breath  is  Afric's  spicy  gale. 
Thy  skin  is  ivory  so  white. 

Thus  every  beauteous  object  that  I  view 

Wakes  in  my  soul  some  charm  of  lovely  Sue. 

"Though  battle  call  me  from  thy  arms, 

Let  not  my  pretty  Susan  mourn  ; 
Though  cannons  roar,  yet  safe  from  harms     ;_ 

William  shall  to  his  dear  return. 
Love  turns  aside  the  balls  that  round  me  fly,    • 
Lest  precious  tears  should  drop  from  Susan's  eye." 

The  boatswain  gave  the  dreadful  word. 
The  sails  their  swelling  bosom  spread  ; 

No  longer  must  she  stay  aboard  ; 

They  kissed,  she  sighed,  he  hung  his  head. 

Her  lessening  boat  unwilling  rows  to  land : 

"  Adieu  ! "  she  cries,  and  waved  her  hly  hand. 

John  Gay. 


THE  BALLAD   OF  THE  BOAT.  4.1 


■    THE   BALLAD    OF   THE   BOAT. 

'T^HE  stream  was  smooth  as  glass  ;  we  said,  "  Arise, 
^      and  let's  away  !  " 
The  Siren  sang  beside  the  boat  that  in  the  rushes  lay  ; 
And  spread  the  sail  and  strong  the  oar,  we  gayly  took 

our  way. 
When  shall  the  sandy  bar  be  crossed  ?  when  shall  we- 

find  the  bay  ? 

The  broadening  flood  swells  slowly  out  o'er  cattle- 
dotted  plains, 

The  stream  is  strong  and  turbulent,  and  dark  with 
heavy  rains  ; 

The  laborer  looks  up  to  see  our  shallop  speed  away. 

When  shall  the  sandy  bar  be  crossed  ?  when  shall  we 
find  the  bay  ? 

Now  are  the  clouds  like  fiery  shrouds  ;  the  sun,  su- 
'     ■  perbly  large,  ^ 

Slow  as  an  oak  to  woodman's  stroke,  sinks  flaming  at 

their  marge ; 
The  waves  are  bright  with  mirrored  light  as  jacinths 

on  our  way. 
Wlien  shall  the  sandy  bar  be  crossed  ?  when  shall  we 

find  the  bay  1 

The  moon  is  high  up  in  the  sky,  and  now  no  mbre  we 

see 
The  spreading  river's  either  bank,  and  surging  dis- 
'  tantly 


42  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

There  booms  a  sullen  thunder,  as  of  breakers  far  away. 
Now  shall  the  sandy  bar  be  crossed,  now  shall  we  find 
the  bay ! 

The  sea-gull  shrieks  high  overhead,  and  dimly  to  out 

sight 
The  moonlit  crests  of  foaming  waves  gleam  towering 

through  the  night. 
We'll  steal  upon  the  mermaid  soon,  and  start  her  from 

her  lay. 
When  once  the  sandy  bar  is  crossed,  and  we  are  in  the 

bay. 

What   rises  white   and  awfiil  as    a  shroud-enfolded 

ghost  ? 
What  roar  of  rampant  tumult  bursts  in  clangor  on  the 

coast  ? 
Pull  back  !  pull  back !    The  raging  flood  sweeps  every 

oar  away. 
O  stream,  is  this  thy  bar  of  sand  ?   O  boat,  is  this  the 

bay? 

R.  Garrett. 


THE   SEA-MAID. 


A    MAIDEN  came  gliding  o'er  the  sea, 
•^  ^     In  a  boat  as  light  as  boat  could  be ; 
And  she  sang  in  tones  so  sweet  and  free, 
"  Oh,  where  is  the  youth  that  will  follow  me  ? 


LANDING   OF  PILGRIM  FATHERS.         43 

Her  forehead  was  white  as  the  pearly  shell, 
And  in  flickering  waves  her  ringlets  fell, 
Her  bosom  heaved  with  a  gentle  swell, 
And  her  voice  was  a  distant  vesper  bell. 

And  still  she  sang,  while  the  western  light 
Fell  on  her  figure  so  soft  and  bright. 
"  Oh,  where  shall  I  find  the  brave  young  sprite 
That  will  follow  the  track  of  my  skiff  to-night  ?  " 

To  the  strand  the  youths  of  the  village  run, 
When  the  witching  song  has  scarce  begun. 
And  ere  the  set  of  that  evening  sun 
Fifteen  bold  lovers  the  maid  has  won. 

They  hoisted  the  sail,  and  they  plied  the  oar, 
And  away  they  went  from  their  native  shore, 
While  the  damsel's  pinnace  flew  fast  before. 
But  never,  O  never  we  saw  them  more  ! 

John  Sterling. 

THE   LANDING   OF   THE   PILGRIM 
FATHERS. 

nr^HE  breaking  waves  dashed  high 

On  a  stern  and  rock-bound  coast. 
And  the  woods  against  a  stormy  sky 
Their  giant  branches  tossed; 

And  the  heavy  night  hung  dark 

The  hills  and  waters  o'er, 
When  a  band  of  exiles  moored  their  bark 

On  the  wild  New  England  shore. 


44  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Not  as  the  conqueror  comes, 

They,  the  true-hearted,  came,  — 
Not  with  the  roll  of  the  stirring  drums. 

And  the  trumpet  that  sings  of  fame  ; 

Not  as  the  flying  come. 

In  silence  and  in  fear, — 
They  shook  the  depths  of  the  desert  gloom 
-     With  their  hymns  of  lofty  cheer. 

Amidst  the  storm  they  sang. 

And  the  stars  heard,  and  the  sea ; 

And  the  sounding  aisles  of  the  dim  woods  rang 
To  the  anthem  of  the  free. 

The  ocean-eagle  soared 

From  his  nest  by  the  white  wave's  foam, 
And  the  rocking  pines  of  the  forest  roared,  — 

This  was  their  welcome  home. 

There  were  men  with  hoary  hair 

Amidst  that  pilgrim  band  ; 
Why  had  they  come  to  wither  there, 

Away  from  their  childhood's  land  ? 

There  was  woman's  fearless  eye, 

Lit  by  her  deep  love's  truth  ; 
There  was  manhood's  brow  serenely  high, 

And  the  fiery  heart  of  youth. 

What  sought  they  thus  afar  ? 

Bright  jewels  of  the  mine  ? 
The  wealth  of  seas,  the  spoils  of  war  ?  — 

They  sought  a  faith's  pure  shrine  ! 


SA£>  RHYME   OF  THE  PROUD  MEN.      '45 

Ay,  call  it  holy  ground, 

The  soil  where  first  they  trod  ;  — 
They  have  left  unstained  what  there  they  found,  — 

Freedom  to  worship  God. 

Felicia  Hemans. 


The  sad  rhy7ne  of  the  men  who  proudly  clung  . 
To  their  first  faulty  and  withered  in  their  prideP 

From  Paracelsus. 

/^VER  the  sea  our  galleys  went, 

^-^     With  cleaving  prows  in  order  brave, 

To  a  speeding  wind  and  a  bounding  wave,  — 

A  gallant  armament : 
Each  bark  built  out  of  a  forest  tree. 
Left  leafy  and  rough  as  first  it  grew, 
And  nailed  all  over  the  gaping  sides, 
Within  and  without,  with  black-bull  hides, 
Seethed  in  fat  and  suppled  in  flame. 
To  bear  the  playful  billows'  game. 
So  each  good  ship  was  rude  to  see, 
Rude  and  bare  to  the  outward  view. 

But  each  upbore  a  stately  tent ; 
Where  cedar  pales  in  scented  row 
Kept  out  the  flakes  of  the  dancing  brine : 
And  an  awning  drooped  the  mast  below, 
In  fold  on  fold  of  the  purple  fine. 
That  neither  noon-tide,  nor  star-shine, 
Nor  moonhght  cold  which  maketh  mad. 

Might  pierce  the  regal  tenement. 


46  SEA   A//D  SHORE. 

When  the  sun  dawned,  oh,  gay  and  glad 
We  set  the  sail  and  plied  the  oar ; 
But  when  the  night-wind  blew  like  breath, 
For  joy  of  one  day's  voyage  more, 
We  sang  together  on  the  wide  sea. 
Like  men  at  peace  on  a  peaceful  shore  ; 
Each  sail  was  loosed  to  the  wind  so  free, 
Each  helm  made  sure  by  the  twilight  star, 
And  in  a  sleep  as  calm  as  death, 
We,  the  strangers  from  afar. 

Lay  stretched  along,  each  weary  crew 
In  a  circle  round  its  wondrous  tent, 
Whence  gleamed  soft  light  and  curled  rich  scent, 

And,  with  Hght  and  perfume,  music  too  : 
So  the  stars  wheeled  round,  and  the  darkness  past, 
And  at  morn  we  started  beside  the  mast, 
And  still  each  ship  was  sailing  fast ! 

One  morn  the  land  appeared  !  —  a  speck 
Dim  trembling  betwixt  sea  and  sky. 
"  Avoid  it,"  cried  our  pilot,  "  check 

The  shout,  restrain  the  longing  eye  !  " 
But  the  heaving  sea  was  black  behind 
For  many  a  night  and  many  a  day. 
And  land,  though  but  a  rock,  drew  nigh  ; 
So  we  broke  the  cedar  pales  away, 
Let  the  purple  awning  flap  in  the  wind, 

And  a  statue  bright  was  on  every  deck ! 
We  shouted,  every  man  of  us, 
And  steered  right  into  the  harbor  thus, 
With  pomp  and  paean  glorious. 


SAD  RHYME   OF  THE  PROUD  MEN.        47 

An  hundred  shapes  of  lucid  stone  ! 

All  day  we  built  a  shrine  for  each,  — 
A  shrine  of  rock  for  every  one,  — 
Nor  paused  we,  till  in  the  westering  sun 

We  sate  together  on  the  beach 
To  sing,  because  our  task  was  done  ; 
When  lo  !  what  shouts  and  merry  songs  ! 
What  laughter  all  the  distance  stirs  ! 
What  raft  comes  loaded  with  its  throngs 
Of  gentle  islanders  ? 

"The  isles  are  just  at  hand,"  they  cried; 
"  Like  cloudlets  faint  at  even  sleeping, 
Our  temple-gates  are  opened  wide. 

Our  olive-groves  thick  shade  are  keeping 
For  the  lucid  shapes  you  bring,"  they  cried. 
Oh,  then  we  awoke  with  sudden  start 
From  our  deep  dream  ;  we  knew,  too  late. 
How  bare  the  rock,  how  desolate, 
To  which  we  had  flung  our  precious  freight : 
Yet  we  called  out,  "  Depart ! 

Our  gifts,  once  given,  must  here  abide  : 
Our  work  is  done  ;  we  have  no  heart 
To  mar  our  work,  though  vain,"  we  cried. 

Robert  Browning. 


,48  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


HERVE    KIEL. 


/^N  the  sea  and  at  the  Hogue,  sixteen  hundred 
^-^     ninety-two, 

Did  the  EngHsh  fight  the  French,  —  woe  to  France  ! 
And  the  thirty-first  of  May,  helter-skelter  through  the 

blue. 
Like  a  crowd  of  fi-ightened  porpoises  a  shoal  of  sharks 

pursue, 
Came  crowding  ship   on   ship  to  St.  Malo  on  the 

Ranee, 
With  the  English  fleet  in  view. 

'Twas  the  squadron  that  escaped,  with  the  victor  in 
full  chase : 
First  and  foremost  of  the  drove,  in  his  great  ship, 
Damfreville  ; 
Close  on  him  fled,  great  and  small, 
Twenty-two  good  ships  in  all ; 
And  they  signalled  to  the  place, 
*'  Help  the  winners  of  a  race  ! 

Get  us  guidance,  give  us  harbor,  take  us  quick ;  or, 

quicker  still. 
Here's  the  Enghsh  can  and  will !  " 

Then  the  pilots  of  the  place  put  out  brisk,  and  leaped  on 
board  : 
"  Why,  what  hope  or  chance  have  ships  like  these  to 
pass  1 "  laughed  they  : 


HERVE  RIEL.  49 

Rocks   to   starboard,  rocks  to  port,  all  the  passage 

scarred  and  scored, 
Shall  the  '  Formidable,'  here,  with  her  twelve  and  eighty 
guns, 
Think  to  make  the  river-mouth  by  the  single  narrow 
way. 
Trust  to  enter  where  'tis  ticklish  for  a  craft  of  twenty 
tons, 
And  with  flow  at  full  beside  ? 
Now  'tis  slackest  ebb  of  tide. 
Reach  the  mooring  ?     Rather  say, 
While  rock  stands,  or  water  runs, 
Not  a  ship  will  leave  the  bay  !  " 

Then  was  called  a  council  straight  : 
Brief  and  bitter  the  debate. 

"  Here's  the  English  at  our  heels  :   would  you  have 
-  "  them  take  in  tow 

All  that's  left  us  of  the  fleet,  linked  together  stern  and 

bow. 
For  a  prize  to  Plymouth  sound  ? 
fetter  run  the  ships  aground  !  " 

(Ended  Damfreville  his  speech.) 
"  Not  a  minute  more  to  wait ! 

Let  the  captains  all  and  each 

Shove  ashore,  then  blow  up,  burn  the  vessels  on  the 
beach  ! 
France  must  undergo  her  fate  !  " 

*'  Give  the  word  !  "     But  no  such  word 
Was  ever  spoke  or  heard  : 

For  up  stood,  for  out  stepped,  for  in  struck,  amid  all 
these,  — 


50  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

A  captain  ?  a  lieutenant  ?  a  mate,  —  first,  second,  third  ? 
No  such  man  of  mark,  and  meet 
With  his  betters  to  compete  ! 
But  a  simple  Breton  sailor,  pressed  by  Tourville 
for  the  fleet, 
A  poor  coasting-pilot  he,  —  Herve  Riel  the  Croisick- 


And  "  What  mockery  or  mahce  have  we  here  ?"  cried 
Herve  Riel. 
**  Are  you  mad,  you  Malouins  ?     Are  you  cowards, 
fools,  or  rogues  ? 
Talk  to  me  of  rocks  and  shoals  ?  —  me,  who  took  the 

soundings,  tell 
On  my  fingers  every  bank,  every  shallow,  every  swell, 
'Twixt  the  offing  here  and  Greve,  where  the  river 
disembogues  ? 
Are  you  bought  for  English  gold  ?     Is   it  love   the 
lying's  for  ? 
Morn  and  eve,  night  and  day, 
Have  I  piloted  your  bay, 
Entered  free  and  anchored  fast  at  the  foot  of  Solidor. 
Burn  the  fleet,  and  ruin  France  ?     That  were  worse 
than  fifty  Rogues  ! 
Sirs,  they  know  I  speak  the  truth  !     Sirs,  believe 
me,  there's  a  way  ! 
Only  let  me  lead  the  line. 

Have  the  biggest  ship  to  steer, 
Get  this  '  Formidable  '  clear, 
Make  the  others  follow  mine, 

And  I  lead  them,  most  and  least,  by  a  passage  I  know 
well, 


HERVE  RIEL.  5 1 

Right  to  Solidor  past  Greve, 

And  there  lay  them  safe  and  sound  ; 
And,  if  one  ship  misbehave,  — 

Keel  so  much  as  grate  the  ground,  — 
Why,  I've  nothing  but  my  life  :  here's  my  head  !  "  cries 
Herve  Riel. 

Not  a  minute  more  to  wait. 

"  Steer  us  in,  then,  small  and  great ! 

Take  the  helm,  lead  the  line,  save  the  squadron  !  " 
cried  its  chief. 
Captains,  give  the  sailor  place  ! 

He  is  admiral,  in  brief. 
Still  the  north-wind,  by  God's  grace. 
See  the  noble  fellow's  face. 
As  the  big  ship,  with  a  bound, 
Clears  the  entry  like  a  hound, 

Keeps  the  passage,  as  its  inch  of  way  were  the  wide 
sea's  profound  ! 

See,  safe  through  shoal  and  rock, 

How  they  follow  in  a  flock  ; 
Not  a  ship  that  misbehaves,  not  a  keel  that  grates  the 
ground, 

Not  a  spar  that  comes  to  grief ! 
The  peril,  see,  is  past ! 
All  are  harbored  to  the  last ! 
And,  just  as  Hervd  Riel  hollas   "  Anchor ! "  sure  as 

fate, 
Up  the  EngHsh  come,  —  too  late  ! 

So  the  storm  subsides  to  calm  : 
They  see  the  green  trees  wave 


52  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

On  the  heights  overlooking  Greve  ; 
Hearts  that  bled  are  stanched  with  balm. 
"  Just  our  rapture  to  enhance, 

Let  the  English  rake  the  bay, 
Gnash  their  teeth,  and  glare  askance 

As  they  cannonade  away  ! 
'Neath    rampired    Solidor    pleasant    riding    on    the 

Ranee  ! " 
How  hope  succeeds  despair  on  each  captain's  coun- 
tenance ! 
Out  burst  all  with  one  accord, 

"This  is  paradise  for  hell ! 
Let  France,  let  France's  king, 
Thank  the  man  that  did  the  thing  !  " 
What  a  shout,  and  all  one  word, 

"  Herve  Kiel !  " 
As  he  stepped  in  front  once  more  ; 

Not  a  symptom  of  surprise 

In  the  frank  blue  Breton  eyes,  — 
Just  the  same  man  as  before.  ; 

Then  said  Damfreville,  "  My  friend, 
I  must  speak  out  at  the  end. 

Though  I  find  the  speaking  hard : 
Praise  is  deeper  than  the  lips  : 
You  have  saved  the  king  his  ships  ; 

You  must  name  your  own  reward. 
'Faith,  our  sun  was  near  eclipse  ! 
Demand  whate'er  you  will, 
France  remains  your  debtor  still. 

Ask  to  heart's  content,  and  have  !  or  my  name's   not 
Damfreville." 


HERV&  KIEL.  53 

Then  a  beam  of  fun  outbroke 
On  the  bearded  mouth  that  spoke, 
As  the  honest  heart  laughed  through 
Those  frank  eyes  of  Breton  blue  :  — 
"  Since  I  needs  must  say  my  say  ; 

Since  on  board  the  duty's  done, 

And  from  Malo  Roads  to  Croisic  Point  what  is  it 
but  a  run  ?  — 
Since  'tis  ask  and  have,  I  may  ; 

Since  the  others  go  ashore,  — 
Come  !     A  good  whole  holiday  ! 

Leave  to  go  and  see  my  wife,  whom  I  call  the  Belle 
Aurore  !  " 

That  he  asked,  and  that  he  got,  —  nothing  more. 

Name  and  deed  alike  are  lost : 
Not  a  pillar  nor  a  post 

In  his  Croisic  keeps  alive  the  feat  as  it  befell ; 
Not  a  head  in  white  and  black 
On  a  single  fishing-smack 

In  memory  of  the   man  but  for  whom  had  gone  to 
wrack 

All  that  France  saved  from  the  fight  whence  England 
bore  the  bell. 
Go  to  Paris  ;  rank  on  rank 

Search  the  heroes  flung  pell-mell 
On  the  Louvre,  face  and  flank : 

You  shall  look  long  enough  ere  you  come  to  Hervd 
Kiel. 
So,  for  better  and  for  worse, 
Hervd  Riel,  accept  my  verse  ! 


54  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

In  my  verse,  Hervd  Riel,  do  thou  once  more 
Save  the  squadron,  honor  France,  love  thy  wife  the 
Belle  Aurore ! 

Robert  Browning. 


THE    "GRAY  SWAN." 

"  /^H,  tell  me,  sailor,  tell  rrie  true, 
^-^     Is  my  little  lad,  my  Elihu, 
A-sailing  with  your  ship  ?  " 

The  sailor's  eyes  were  dim  with  dew. 

"  Your  little  lad,  your  Elihu  ?  " 
He  said  with  trembhng  hp,  — 
"  What  little  lad  ?   what  ship  ?  " 

"  What  little  lad  ?  as  if  there  could  be 

Another  such  a  one  as  he  ! 
What  little  lad,  do  you  say  ? 

Why,  Elihu,  that  took  to  the  sea 

The  moment  I  put  him  off  my  knee  ! 
It  was  just  the  other  day 
The  '  Gray  Swan '  sailed  away." 

"  The  other  day  ?  "     The  sailor's  eyes 

Stood  open  with  a  great  surprise  : 
"  The  other  day  ?  the  '  Swan  '  ?  " 

His  heart  began  in  his  throat  to  rise. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,  here  in  the  cupboard  lies 
The  jacket  he  had  on," 
"  And  so  your  lad  is  gone  ?  " 


THE   ''GRAY  swan:'  55 

"  Gone  with  the  '  Swan '  ?  "  —  "  And  did  she  stand 
With  her  anchor  clutching  hold  of  the  sand 

For  a  month,  and  never  stir  ?  " 
"Why,  to  be  sure  !     I've  seen  from  the  land, 
Like  a  lover  kissing  his  lady's  hand, 

The  wild  sea  kissing  her,  — 

A  sight  to  remember,  sir  !  " 

"  But,  my  good  mother,  do  you  know 
All  this  was  twenty  years  ago  ? 

I  stood  on  the  '  Gray  Swan's  '  deck, 
And  to  that  lad  I  saw  you  throw, 
Taking  it  off  as  it  might  be,  — so  !  — 

The  kerchief  from  your  neck." 

"  Ay,  and  he'll  bring  it  back  !  " 

"  And  did  the  httle  lawless  lad. 

That  has  made  you  sick  and  made  you  sad, 

Sail  with  the  '  Gray  Swan's  '  crew  ? " 
"  Lawless  !     The  man  is  going  mad  ! 
The  best  boy  ever  mother  had  !  — 

Be  sure  he  sailed  with  the  crew  ! 

What  would  you  have  him  do  ?  " 

"  And  has  he  never  written  line, 

Nor  sent  you  word,  nor  made  you  sign. 

To  say  he  was  alive  ?  " 
"  Hold  !     If  'twas  wrong,  the  wrong  is  mine ; 
Besides,  he  may  lie  in  the  brine ; 

And  could  he  write  from  the  grave  ? 

Tut,  man  !    what  would  you  have  ?  " 


56  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

"  Gone  twenty  years,  —  a  long,  long  cruise  ! 
'Twas  wicked  thus  your  love  to  abuse ! 

But  if  the  lad  still  live. 
And  come  back  home,  think  you  you  can 
Forgive  him  ?  "  —  "  Miserable  man  1 

You're  mad  as  the  sea,  you  rave  ! 

What  have  I  to  forgive  ? " 

The  sailor  twitched  his  shirt  so  blue, 
And  from  within  his  bosom  drew 

The  kerchief.     She  was  wild. 
"  O  God,  my  Father !  is  it  true  ? 
My  little  lad,  my  Elihu  ! 

My  blessed  boy,  my  child  ! 

My  dead,  my  hving  child !  " 

Alice  Gary. 


THE    PHANTOM    SHIP. 

TN  Mather's  "Magnalia  Christi,'"' 

Of  the  old  colonial  time, 
May  be  found  in  prose  the  legend 
That  is  here  set  down  in  rhyme. 

A  ship  sailed  from  New  Haven, 
And  the  keen  and  frosty  airs, 

That  filled  her  sails  at  parting. 

Were  heavy  with  good  men's  prayers. 

"  O  Lord  !  if  it  be  thy  pleasure  "  — 
Thus  prayed  the  old  divine  — 

"To  bury  our  friends  in  the  ocean, 
Take  them,  for  thev  are  thine  ! " 


THE  PHANTOM  SHIP.  57 

But  Master  Laniberton  muttered, 

And  under  his  breath  said  he, 
"  This  ship  is  so  crank  and  walty, 

I  fear  our  grave  she  will  be  !  " 

And  the  ships  that  came  from  England, 
When  the  winter  months  were  gone. 

Brought  no  tidings  of  this  vessel, 
Nor  of  Master  Lamberton. 

This  put  the  people  to  praying 
That  the  Lord  would  let  them  hear 

What  in  his  greater  wisdom 

He  had  done  with  friends  so  dear. 

And  at  last  their  prayers  were  answered  : 

It  was  in  the  month  of  June, 
An  hour  before  the  sunset 

Of  a  windy  afternoon, 

When,  steadily  steering  landward, 

A  ship  was  seen  below, 
And  they  knew  it  was  Lamberton,  Master, 

Who  sailed  so  long  ago. 

On  she  came,  with  a  cloud  of  canvas, 
Right  against  the  wind  that  blew, 

Until  the  eye  could  distinguish 
The  faces  of  the  crew. 

Then  fell  her  straining  topmasts, 

Hanging  tangled  in  the  shrouds, 
And  her  sails  were  loosened  and  lifted. 

And  blown  away  like  clouds. 


58  ,  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

And  their  masts,  with  all  their  rigging, 

Fell  slowly,  one  by  one, 
And  the  hulk  dilated  and  vanished, 

As  a  sea-mist  in  the  sun ! 

And  the  people  who  saw  this  marvel 

Each  said  unto  his  friend. 
That  this  was  the  mould  of  their  vessel, 

And  thus  her  tragic  end. 

And  the  pastor  of  the  village 

Gave  thanks  to  God  in  prayer. 
That,  to  quiet  their  troubled  spirits, 

He  had  sent  this  Ship  of  Air. 

Henry  W.  Longfellow. 


THE   FORSAKEN    MERMAN. 

/^^OME,  dear  children,  let  us  away ! 
^^       Down  and  away  below. 
Now  my  brothers  call  from  the  bay  ; 
Now  the  great  winds  shorewards  blow  ; 
Now  the  salt  tides  seawards  flow  ; 
Now  the  wild  white  horses  play, 
Champ  and  chaff  and  toss  in  the  spray. 

Children  dear,  let  us  away  ; 

This  way,  this  way. 

Call  her  once  before  you  go. 
Call  once  yet. 


THE  FORSAKEN  MERMAN,  $9 

In  a  voice  that  she  will  know  : 

"  Margaret !  Margaret !  " 
Children's  voices  should  be  dear 
(Call  once  more)  to  a  mother's  ear ; 
Children's  voices  wild  with  pain. 

Surely  she  will  come  again. 
Call  her  once,  and  come  away ; 

This  way,  this  way. 
"  Mother  dear,  we  cannot  stay," 
The  wild  white  horses  foam  and  fret, 

Margaret !  Margaret ! 

Come,  dear  children,  come  away  down. 

Call  no  more. 
One  last  look  at  the  white-walled  town, 
And  the  little  gray  church  on  the  windy  shore, 

Then  come  down. 
She  will  not  come,  though  you  call  all  day. 

Come  away,  come  away. 

Children  dear,  was  it  yesterday 

We  heard  the  sweet  bells  over  the  bay  ; 
In  the  caverns  where  we  lay. 
Through  the  surf  and  through  the  swell, 

The  far-off  sound  of  a  silver  bell  1 

Sand-strewn  caverns  cool  and  deep. 

Where  the  winds  are  all  asleep  ; 

Where  the  spent  lights  quiver  and  gleam  ; 

Where  the  salt  weed  sways  in  the  stream ; 

Where  the  sea-beasts,  ranged  all  round. 

Feed  in  the  ooze  of  their  pasture-ground ; 


6o  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Where  the  sea-snakes  coil  and  twine, 
Dry  their  mail,  and  bask  in  the  brine  ; 
Where  great  whales  come  sailing  by, 
Sail  and  sail,  with  unshut  eye, 
Round  the  world  for  ever  and  aye  ? 

When  did  music  come  this  way  ? 

Children  dear,  was  it  yesterday  ? 
Children  dear,  was  it  yesterday 
(Call  yet  once)  that  she  went  away  ? 
Once  she  sat  with  you  and  me, 

On  a  red  gold  throne  in  the  heart  of  the  sea, 

And  the  youngest  sat  on  her  knee. 
She  combed  its  bright  hair  and  she  tended  it  well, 
When  down  swung  the  sound  of  the  far-off  bell ; 
She  sighed,  she  looked  up  through  the  clear  green  sea  ; 
She  said,  "  I  must  go,  for  my  kinsfolk  pray 
In  the  Httle  gray  church  on  the  shore  to-day. 
'Twill  be  Easter-time  in  the  world  —  ah  me  ! 
And  I  lose  my  poor  soul,  merman,  here  with  thee." 
I  said,  "  Go  up,  dear  heart,  through  the  waves  ; 
Say  thy  prayer,  and  come  back  to  the  kind  sea-caves." 
She  smiled,  she  went  up  through  the  surf  in  the  bay  ; 

Children  dear,  was  it  yesterday  ? 

Children  dear,  were  we  long  alone  ? 
"  The  sea  grows  stormy,  the  little  ones  moan  ; 
Long  prayers,"  I  said,  "  in  the  world  they  say. 
Come,"  I  said,  and  we  rose  through  the  surf  in  the 

bay. 
We  went  up  the  beach  in  the  sandy  down 
Where  the  sea-stocks  bloom,  to  the  white -walled  town, 


THE   FORSAKEN  MERMAN.  6r 

Through  the  narrow-paved  streets  where  all  was  still, 

To  the  little  gray  church  on  the  windy  hill. 

From  the  church  came   a   murmur  of  folk  at  their 

prayers, 
But  we  stood  without  in  the  cold  blowing  airs. 
We  climbed  on  the  graves,  on  the  stones  worn  with 

rains. 
And  we  gazed  up  the  aisle  through  the  small  leaded 
panes. 

She  sat  by  the  pillar  ;  we  saw  her  clear  ; 

"  Margaret,  hist !  come  quick,  we  are  here. 

Dear  heart,"  I  said,  "  we  are  here  alone  ; 

The  sea  grows  stormy,  the  httle  ones  moan." 
But  ah  !  she  gave  me  never  a  look. 
For  her  eyes  were  sealed  to  the  holy  book. 

"  Loud  prays  the  priest ;  shut  stands  the  door," 
Come  away,  children,  call  no  more. 
Come  away,  come  down,  call  no  more. 

Down,  down,  down, 
Down  to  the  depths  of  the  sea ; 
She  sits  at  her  wheel  in  the  humming  town, 

Singing  most  joyfully. 
Hark  what  she  sings  :  "  O  joy,  O  joy. 
For  the  humming  street,  and  the  child  with  its  toy, 
For  the  priest  and  the  bell,  and  the  holy  well, 
For  the  wheel  where  I  spun, 
And  the  blessed  light  of  the  sun." 
And  so  she  sings  her  fill. 
Singing  most  joyfully. 
Till  the  sliuttle  falls  from  her  hand, 
And  the  whizzing  wheel  stands  still. 


62  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

She  steals  to  the  window  and  looks  at  the  sand ; 

And  over  the  sand  at  the  sea  ; 

And  her  eyes  are  set  in  a  stare  ; 

And  anon  there  breaks  a  sigh, 

And  anon  there  drops  a  tear, 

From  a  sorrow-clouded  eye, 

And  a  heart  sorrow-laden, 
A  long,  long  sigh. 
For  the  cold  strange  eyes  of  a  little  mermaiden, 
And  tlie  gleam  of  her  golden  hair. 

Come  away,  away,  children, 
Come,  children,  come  down. 
The  hoarse  wind  blows  colder  ; 
Lights  shine  in  the  town. 
She  will  start  from  her  slumber 
When  gusts  shake  the  door  ; 
She  will  hear  the  winds  howling. 
Will  hear  the  waves  roar ; 
We  shall  see,  while  above  us 
The  waves  roar  and  whirl, 
A  ceihng  of  amber, 
A  pavement  of  pearl. 
Singing,  "  Here  came  a  mortal, 
But  faithless  was  she, 
And  alone  dwell  for  ever 
The  kings  of  the  sea." 

But  children,  at  midnight. 
When  soft  the  winds  blow. 
When  clear  falls  the  moonhght, 
When  spring-tides  are  low, 


THE  DEAD  SHIP  OF  HARPS  WELL,         (>Z 

When  sweet  airs  come  seaward 
From  heaths  starred  with  broom, 
And  high  rocks  throw  mildly 
On  the  blanched  sands  a  gloom  ; 
Up  the  still,  glistening  beaches, 
Up  the  creeks  we  will  hie  ; 
Over  banks  of  bright  seaweed 
The  ebb-tide  leaves  dry. 
We  will  gaze  from  the  sand-hills. 
At  the  white  sleeping  town  ; 
At  the  church  on  the  hill-side,  — 

And  then  come  back,  down. 
Singing,  "  There  dwells  a  loved  one, 

But  cruel  is  she  ; 

She  left  lonely  for  ever 

The  kings  of  the  sea." 

Matthew  Arnold. 


THE   DEAD   SHIP   OF   HARPSWELL. 

TT THAT  flecks  the  outer  gray  beyond 

^  *       The  sundown's  golden  trail  ? 
The  white  flash  of  a  sea-bird's  wing, 

Or  gleam  of  slanting  sail  ? 
Let  young  eyes  watch  from  Neck  and  Point, 

And  sea-worn  elders  pray,  — 
The  ghost  of  what  was  once  a  ship 

Is  saihng  up  the  bay  ! 


64        .  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

From  gray  sea-fog,  from  icy  drift, 

From  peril  and  from  pain, 
The  home-bound  fisher  greets  thy  h'ghts, 

O  hundred-harbored  Maine  ! 
But  many  a  keel  shall  seaward  turn. 

And  many  a  sail  outstand, 
When,  tall  and  white,  the  Dead  Ship  looms 

Against  the  dusk  of  land. 

She  rounds  the  headland's  bristling  pines  ; 

She  threads  the  isle-set  bay  ; 
No  spur  of  breeze  can  speed  her  on, 

Nor  ebb  of  tide  delay. 
Old  men  still  walk  the  Isle  of  Orr 

Who  tell  her  date  and  name  ; 
Old  shipwrights  sit  in  Freeport  yards 

Who  hewed  her  oaken  frame. 

What  weary  doom  of  baffled  quest, 

Thou  sad  sea-ghost,  is  thine  ? 
What  makes  thee  in  the  haunts  of  home 

A  wonder  and  a  sign  ? 
No  foot  is  on  thy  silent  deck. 

Upon  thy  helm  no  hand  ; 
No  ripple  hath  the  soundless  wind 

That  smites  thee  from  the  land ! 

For  never  comes  the  ship  to  port, 
Howe'er  the  breeze  may  be  ; 

Just  when  she  nears  the  waiting  shore,  ' 
She  drifts  a^ain  to  sea. 


THE  DEAD  SHIP  OF  HARPS  WELL.         65 

No  tack  of  sail,  nor  turn  of  helm, 

Nor  sheer  of  veering  side  ; 
Stern-fore  she  drives  to  sea  and  night, 

Against  the  wind  and  tide. 

In  vain  o'er  Harpswell  Neck  the  star 

Of  evening  guides  her  in  ; 
In  vain  for  her  the  lamps  are  ht 

Within  thy  tower,  Seguin  ! 
In  vain  the  harbor-boat  shall  hail. 

In  vain  the  pilot  call ; 
No  hand  shall  reef  her  spectral  sail, 

Or  let  her  anchor  fall. 

Shake,  brown  old  wives,  with  dreary  joy, 

Your  gray-head  hints  of  ill ; 
And,  over  sick-beds  whispering  low, 

Your  prophecies  fulfil. 
Some  home  amid  yon  birchen  trees 

Shall  drape  its  door  with  woe  ; 
And  slowly  where  the  Dead  Ship  sails 

The  burial-boat  shall  row  ! 

From  Wolf  Neck  and  from  Flying  Point, 

From  island  and  from  main. 
From  sheltered  cove  and  tided  creek, 

Shall  ghde  the  funeral  train. 
The  dead-boat  with  the  bearers  four. 

The  mourners  at  her  stern,  — 
And  one  shall  go  the  silent  way 

Who  shall  no  more  return  ! 
5 


66  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

And  men  shall  sigh,  and  women  weep, 

Whose  dear  ones  pale  and  pine, 
And  sadly  over  sunset  seas 

Await  the  ghostly  sign. 
They  know  not  that  its  sails  are  filled 

By  pity's  tender  breath, 
Nor  see  the  Angel  at  the  helm 

Who  steers  the  Ship  of  Death  ! 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier. 


THE    "THREE    BELLS." 

T3ENEATH  the  low-hung  night  cloud 
-'-^     That  raked  her  splintering  mast, 
The  good  ship  settled  slowly. 
The  cruel  leak  gained  fast. 

Over  the  awful  ocean 

Her  signal  guns  pealed  out. 
Dear  God  !  was  that  thy  answer 

From  the  horror  round  about  ? 

A  voice  came  down  the  wild  wind, 

"  Ho  !  ship  ahoy  !  "  its  cry  : 
"  Our  stout  '  Three  Bells  '  of  Glasgow 
Shall  lay  till  daylight  by  !  " 

Hour  after  hour  crept  slowly. 

Yet  on  the  heaving  swells 
Tossed  up  and  down  the  ship-lights. 

The  lidits  of  the  "  Three  Bells  "  ! 


THE   "  THREE  BELLS.''  67 

And  ship  to  ship  made  signals, 

Man  answered  back  to  man, 
While  oft,  to  cheer  and  hearten, 

The  "  Three  Bells  "  nearer  ran  ; 

And  the  captain  from  her  taffrail 

Sent  down  his  hopeful  cry. 
"  Take  heart !  Hold  on  ! "  he  shouted, 

"  The  '  Three  Bells  '  shall  lay  by  !  " 

All  night  across  the  waters 

The  tossing  lights  shone  clear  ; 
All  night  from  reeling  taffrail 

The  "  Three  Bells  "  sent  her  cheer. 

And  when  the  dreary  watches 

Of  storm  and  darkness  passed, 
Just  as  the  wreck  lurched  under. 

All  souls  were  saved  at  last. 

Sail  on,  "  Three  Bells,"  for  ever, 

In  grateful  memory  sail ! 
Ring  on,  "Three  Bells,"  of  rescue. 

Above  the  wave  and  gale  ! 

Type  of  the  Love  eternal. 

Repeat  the  Master's  cry. 
As,  tossing  through  our  darkness, 

The  lights  of  God  draw  nigh  ! 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier. 


68  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


SKIPPER  IRESON'S    RIDE. 

OF  all  the  rides  since  the  birth  of  time, 
Told  in  story  or  sung  in  rhyme,  — 
On  Apuleius's  Golden  Ass, 
Or  one-eyed  Calendar's  horse  of  brass, 
Witch  astride  on  a  human  hack, 
Islam's  prophet  on  AI  Borak,  — 
The  strangest  ride  that  ever  was  sped 
Was  Ireson's,  out  from  Marblehead  ! 
Old  Floyd  Ireson,  for  his  hard  heart, 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  in  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead  ! 

Body  of  turkey,  head  of  owl. 
Wings  a-droop  like  a  rained-on  fowl, 
Feathered  and  ruffled  in  every  part, 
Skipper  Ireson  stood  in  the  cart. 
Scores  of  women,  old  and  young, 
Strong  of  muscle,  and  glib  of  tongue, 
Pushed  and  pulled  up  the  rocky  lane, 
Shouting  and  singing  the  shrill  refrain  : 
"  Here's  Flud  Oirson,  fur  his  horrd  horrt, 
Torr'd  an'  futherr'd  an'  corr'd  in  a  corrt. 
By  the  women  o'  Morble'ead  ! " 

Wrinkled  scolds  with  hands  on  hips. 
Girls  in  bloom  of  cheek  and  lips. 
Wild-eyed,  free-limbed,  such  as  chase 
Bacchus  round  some  antique  vase. 


SKIPPER  IRESON'S  RIDE.  69 

Brief  of  skirt,  with  ankles  bare, 

Loose  of  kerchief  and  loose  of  hair, 

With  conch-shells  blowing  and  iish-horns'  twang, 

Over  and  over  the  Maenads  sang  : 

"  Here's  Flud  Oirson,  fur  his  horrd  horrt, 
Torr'd  an'  futherr'd  an'  corr'd  in  a  corrt 
By  the  women  o'  Morble'ead  !  " 

Small  pity  for  him  !  —  He  had  sailed  away 
From  a  leaking  ship,  in  Chaleur  bay,  — 
Sailed  away  from  a  sinking  wreck. 
With  his  own  town's-people  on  her  deck  ! 
"  Lay  by  !  lay  by !  "  they  called  to  him. 
Back  he  answered,  "  Sink  or  swim  ! 
Brag  of  your  catch  of  fish  again  !  " 
And  off  he  sailed  through  the  fog  and  rain  ! 
Old  Floyd  Ireson,  for  his  hard  heart, 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  in  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead. 

Fathoms  deep  in  dark  Chaleur 
That  wreck  shall  lie  for  evermore. 
Mother  and  sister,  wife  and  maid. 
Looked  from  the  rocks  of  Marblehead 
Over  the  moaning  and  rainy  sea,  — 
Looked  for  the  coming  that  might  not  be  ! 
What  did  the  winds  and  the  sea-birds  say 
Of  the  cruel  captain  who  sailed  away  ?  — 
Old  Floyd  Ireson,  for  his  hard  heart, 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  in  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead  ! 


SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Through  the  street,  on  either  side, 
Up  flew  windows,  doors  swung  wide  ; 
Sharp-tongued  spinsters,  old  wives  gray, 
Treble  lent  the  fish-horn's  bray. 
Sea-worn  grandsires,  cripple-bound, 
Hulks  of  old  sailors  run  aground, 
Shook  head,  and  fist,  and  hat,  and  cane. 
And  cracked  with  curses  the  hoarse  reft-ain  : 
"  Here's  Flud  Oirson,  for  his  horrd  horrt, 
Torr'd  an'  futherr'd  an'  corr'd  in  a  corrt 
By  the  women  o'  Morble'ead  !  " 

Sweetly  along  the  Salem  road 
Bloom  of  orchard  and  Hlac  showed. 
Little  the  wicked  skipper  knew 
Of  the  fields  so  green  and  the  sky  so  blue. 
Riding  there  in  his  sorry  trim. 
Like  an  Indian  idol  glum  and  grim. 
Scarcely  he  seemed  the  sound  to  hear 
Of  the  voices  shouting,  far  and  near : 

''  Here's  Flud  Oirson,  for  his  horrd  horrt, 
Torr'd  an'  futherr'd  an'  corr'd  in  a  corrt 
By  the  women  o'  Morble'ead  !  " 

"  Hear  me,  neighbors  !  "  at  last  he  cried,  — 
"  What  to  me  is  this  noisy  ride  ? 
What  is  the  shame  that  clothes  the  skin 
To  the  nameless  horror  that  lives  within  ? 
Waking  or  sleeping,  I  see  a  wreck, 
And  hear  a  cry  from  a  reehng  deck  ! 
Hate  me  and  curse  me,  —  I  only  dread 
The  hand  of  God  and  the  face  of  the  dead  !  " 


THE   WIVES  OF  BRIXHAM.  7^ 

Said  old  Floyd  Ireson,  for  his  hard  heart, 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  in  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead. 

Then  the  wife  of  the  skipper  lost  at  sea 
Said,  "  God  has  touched  him  !  —  why  should  we  ?" 
Said  an  old  wife  mourning  her  only  son, 
"  Cut  the  rogue's  tether  and  let  him  run  !  " 
So  with  soft  relentings  and  rude  excuse, 
Half  scorn,  half  pity,  they  cut  him  loose, 
And  gave  him  a  cloak  to  hide  him  in, 
And  left  him  alone  with  his  shame  and  sin. 
Poor  Floyd  Ireson,  for  his  hard  heart. 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  in  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead. 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier. 


THE   WIVES    OF    BRIXHAM. 

'VT'OU  see  the  gentle  water, 

■*•       How  silently  it  floats. 
How  cautiously,  how  steadily 

It  moves  the  sleepy  boats  ; 
And  all  the  little  loops  of  pearl 

It  strews  along  the  sand 
Steal  out  as  leisurely  as  leaves. 

When  summer  is  at  hand. 

But  you  know  it  can  be  angry, 
And  thunder  from  its  rest, 

When  the  stormy  taunts  of  winter 
Are  flying  at  its  breast ; 


72  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

And  if  you  like  to  listen, 

And  draw  your  chairs  around, 

I'll  tell  you  what  it  did  one  night, 
When  you  were  sleeping  sound. 

The  merry  boats  of  Brixham 

Go  out  to  search  the  seas, — 
A  stanch  and  sturdy  fleet  are  they. 

Who  love  a  swinging  breeze  ; 
And  before  the  woods  of  Devon, 

And  the  silver  cliffs  of  Wales, 
You  may  see,  when  summer  evenings  fall, 

The  light  upon  their  sails. 

But  when  the  year  grows  darker, 

And  gray  winds  hunt  the  foam. 
They  go  back  to  httle  Brixham, 

And  ply  their  toils  at  home. 
And  thus  it  chanced  one  winter's  day. 

When  a  storm  began  to  roar. 
That  all  the  men  were  out  at  sea, 

And  all  the  wives  on  shore. 

Then  as  the  wind  grew  fiercer. 

The  women's  cheeks  grew  white,  — 
It  was  f  ercer  in  the  twilight, 

And  fiercest  in  the  night. 
The  strong  clouds  set  themselves  like  ice, 

Without  a  star  to  melt ; 
The  blackness  of  the  darkness 

Was  something  to  be  felt. 


THE    WIVES  OF  BR IX HAM.  73 

The  storm,  like  an  assassin, 

Went  on  its  secret  way, 
And  struck  a  hundred  boats  adrift 

To  reel  about  the  bay. 
They  meet,  they  crash,  —  God  keep  the  men ! 

God  give  a  moment's  light ! 
There  is  nothing  but  the  tumult, 

And  the  tempest,  and  the  night. 

The  men  on  shore  were  anxious,  — 

They  grieved  for  what  they  knew  : 
What  do  you  think  the  women  did  ? 

Love  taught  them  what  to  do  ! 
Outspoke  a  wife  :  ''  We've  beds  at  home, 

We'll  burn  them  for  a  light  ! 
Give  us  the  men  and  the  bare  ground ! 

We  want  no  more  to-night." 

They  took  the  grandame's  blanket. 

Who  shivered  and  bade  them  go  ; 
They  took  the  baby's  pillow. 

Who  could  not  say  them  no  ; 
And  they  heaped  a  great  fire  on  the  pier, 

And  knew  not  all  the  while 
If  they  were  heaping  a  bonfire, 

Or  only  a  funeral  pile. 

And,  fed  with  precious  food,  the  flame 

Shone  bravely  on  the  black, 
Till  a  cry  rang  through  the  people,  — 

"  A  boat  is  coming  back  !  " 


74  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Staggering  dimly  through  the  fog, 

They  see,  and  then  they  doubt ; 
But,  when  the  first  prow  strikes  the  pier, 

Cannot  you  hear  them  shout  ? 

Then  all  along  the  breadth  of  flame 

Dark  figures  shrieked  and  ran, 
With,  "  Child,  here  comes  your  father  1  " 

Or,  "  Wife,  is  this  your  man  ?  " 
And  faint  feet  touch  the  welcome  shore, 

And  stay  a  little  while  ; 
And  kisses  drop  from  frozen  lips, 

Too  tired  to  speak  or  smile. 

So,  one  by  one,  they  struggled  in, 

All  that  the  sea  would  spare  : 
We  will  not  reckon  through  our  tears 

The  names  that  were  not  there  ; 
But  some  went  home  without  a  bed, 

When  all  the  tale  was  told, 
Who  were  too  cold  with  sorrow 

To  know  the  night  was  cold. 

And  this  is  what  the  men  must  do, 

Who  work  in  wind  and  foam  ; 
And  this  is  what  the  women  bear, 

Who  watch  for  them  at  home. 
So  when  you  see  a  Brixham  boat 

Go  out  to  face  the  gales. 
Think  of  the  love  that  travels 

Like  light  upon  her  sails  ! 

M.  B.  S. 


HANNAH  BINDING  SHOES.  75 


HANNAH    BINDING    SHOES. 


■pOOR  lone  Hannah 
-*■      Sitting  at  the  window  binding  shoes, 
Faded,  wrinkled,  — 
Sitting,  stitching  in  a  mournful  muse. 
Bright-eyed  beauty  once  was  she. 
When  the  bloom  was  on  the  tree. 
Spring  and  winter 
Hannah's  at  the  window  binding  shoes. 

Not  a  neighbor 
Passing  nod  or  answer  will  refuse 

To  her  whisper  : 
"  Is  there  from  the  fishers  any  news  ?  " 
Oh,  her  heart's  adrift  with  one 
On  an  endless  voyage  gone  ! 
Night  and  morning 
Hannah's  at  the  window  binding  shoes. 

Fair  young  Hannah 
Ben,  the  sunburnt  fisher,  gayly  wooes  ; 

Hale  and  clever. 
For  a  wilhng  heart  and  hand  he  sues. 
May-day  skies  are  all  aglow. 
And  the  waves  are  laughing  so  ! 
For  her  wedding 
Hannah  leaves  her  window  and  her  shoes. 


76  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

May  is  passing,  — 
'Mid  the  apple-boughs  a  pigeon  cooes. 

Hannah  shudders, 
For  the  wild  sou'wester  mischief  brews. 
Round  the  rocks  of  Marblehead, 
Outward  bound,  a  schooner  sped. 
Silent,  lonesome, 
Hannah's  at  the  window  binding  shoes. 

'Tis  November, 
Now  no  tear  her  wasted  cheek  bedews. 

From  Newfoundland 
Not  a  sail  returning  will  she  lose  ; 

Whispering  hoarsely,  "  Fishermen, 
Have  you,  have  you  heard  of  Ben  ?  " 
Old  with  watching, 
Hannah's  at  the  window  binding  shoes. 

Twenty  winters 
Bleach  and  tear  the  ragged  shore  she  views. 

Twenty  seasons  :  — 
Never  one  has  brought  her  any  news. 
Still  her  dim  eyes  silently 
Chase  the  white  sails  o'er  the  sea. 
Hopeless,  faithful, 
Hannah's  at  the  window  binding  shoes. 


Lucy  Larcom. 


A    GREYPORT  LEGEND,  77 


A   GREYPORT    LEGEND. 


'T^HEY  ran  through  the  streets  of  the  seaport  town, 
■*■      They  peered  from  the  decks  of  the  ships  that  lay 
The  cold  sea-fog  that  came  whitening  down 

Was  never  so  cold  or  white  as  they. 
"Ho  !  Starbuck,  Pinckney,  and  Tenterden  ! 
Run  for  your  shallops,  gather  your  men, 
Scatter  your  boats  on  the  lower  bay." 

Good  cause  for  fear  1   In  the  thick  mid-day, 

The  hulk  that  lay  by  the  rotting  pier, 
Filled  with  the  children  in  happy  play. 

Parted  its  moorings  and  drifted  clear,  — 
Drifted  clear  beyond  reach  or  call,  — 
Thirteen  children  they  were  in  all,  — 
All  adrift  in  the  lower  bay  ! 

Said  a  hard-faced  skipper,  "  God  help  us  all ! 

She  will  not  float  till  the  turning  tide  !  " 
Said  his  wife,  "  My  darling  will  hear  7?ty  call, 

Whether  in  sea  or  heaven  she  bide." 
And  she  hfted  a  quavering  voice  and  high. 
Wild  and  strange  as  the  sea-bird's  cry. 

Till  they  shuddered  and  wondered  at  her  side. 

The  fog  drove  down  on  each  laboring  crew. 
Veiled  each  from  each,  and  the  sky  and  shore. 

There  was  not  a  sound  but  the  breath  they  drew. 
And  the  lap  of  water  and  creak  of  oar ; 


78  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

And  they  felt  the  breath  of  the  downs  fresh  blown 
O'er  leagues  of  clover  and  cold  gray  stone, 

But  not  from  the  lips  that  had  gone  before. 

They  came  no  more.     But  they  tell  the  tale 
That,  when  fogs  are  thick  on  the  harbor-reef, 

The  mackerel  fishers  shorten  sail, 

For  the  signal  they  know  will  bring  relief, 

For  the  voices  of  children  still  at  play 

In  a  phantom  hulk  that  drifts  away 

Through  channels  whose  waters  never  fail. 

It  is  but  a  foolish  shipman's  tale, 
.  A  theme  for  a  poet's  idle  page  ; 
But  still  when  the  mists  of  doubt  prevail, 

And  we  he  becalmed  by  the  shores  of  age, 
We  hear  from  the  misty  troubled  shore 
The  voice  of  the  children  gone  before, 
Drawing  the  soul  to  its  anchorage. 

Bret  Harte 


THE   JUMBLIES. 

From  "Nonsense  Songs." 


'THHEY  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve,  they  did ; 
-*-       In  a  sieve  they  went  to  sea  : 
In  spite  of  all  their  friends  could  say, 
On  a  winter's  morn,  on  a  stormy  day, 
In  a  sieve  they  went  to  sea. 


THE  yUMBLIES,  79 

And  when  the  sieve  turned  round  and  round, 
And  every  one  cried,  "  You'll  all  be  drowned  !  " 
They  called  aloud,  "  Our  sieve  ain't  big  : 
But  we  don't  care  a  button  ;  we  don't  care  a  fig  ; 
In  a  sieve  we'll  go  to  sea  !  " 
Far  and  few,  far  and  few. 

Are  the  lands  where  the  Jumblies  live  : 
Their  heads  are  green,  and  their  hands  are  blue  ; 
And  they  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve. 


They  sailed  away  in  a  sieve,  they  did ; 

In  a  sieve  they  sailed  so  fast, 
With  only  a  beautiful  pea-green  veil, 
Tied  with  a  ribbon,  by  way  of  a  sail, 

To  a  small  tobacco-pipe  mast. 
And  every  one  said,  who  saw  them  go  : 
"  Oh  !  won't  they  be  soon  upset,  you  know  : 
For  the  sky  is  dark,  and  the  voyage  is  long ; 
And,  happen  what  may,  it's  extremely  wrong 
In  a  sieve  to  sail  so  fast." 
Far  and  few,  far  and  few, 

Are  the  lands  where  the  Jumblies  live  : 
Their  heads  are  green,  and  their  hands  are  blue 
And  they  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve. 

III. 

The  water  it  soon  came  in,  it  did ; 

The  water  it  soon  came  in  : 
So,  to  keep  them  dry,  they  wrapped  their  feet 
In  a  pinky  paper,  all  folded  neat ; 

And  they  fastened  it  down  with  a  pin. 


8o  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

And  they  passed  the  night  in  a  crockery-jar, 
And  each  of  them  said,  "  How  wise  we  are  ! 
Though  the  sky  be  dark,  and  the  voyage  be  long, 
Yet  we  never  can  think  we  were  rash  or  wrong. 
While  round  in  our  sieve  we  spin." 
Far  and  few,  far  and  few. 

Are  the  lands  where  the  Jumblies  live : 
Their  heads  are  green,  and  their  hands  are  blue  ; 
And  they  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve. 


And  all  night  long  they  sailed  away  ; 

And,  when  the  sun  went  down, 
They  whistled  and  warbled  a  moony  song 
To  the  echoing  sound  of  a  coppery  gong, 

In  the  shade  of  the  mountains  brown. 
"  O  Timballoo  !     How  happy  we  are. 
When  we  live  in  a  sieve  and  a  crockery-jar ! 
And  all  night  long,  in  the  moonlight  pale. 
We  sail  away,  with  a  pea-green  sail, 

In  the  shade  of  the  mountains  brown.' 
Far  and  few,  far  and  few, 

Are  the  lands  where  the  Jumblies  live  : 
Their  heads  are  green,  and  their  hands  are  blue  ; 
And  they  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve. 

V. 

They  sailed  to  the  Western  Sea,  they  did, — 

To  a  land  all  covered  with  trees  : 
And  they  bought  an  owl,  and  a  useful  cart, 
And  a  pound  of  rice,  and  a  cranberry  tart, 

And  a  hive  of  silvery  bees  ; 


THE  J  U MB  LIES.  8 1 

And  they  bought  a  pig,  and  some  green  jackdaws, 
And  a  lovely  monkey  with  lollipop  paws, 
And  forty  bottles  of  ring-bo-ree, 
And  no  end  of  Stilton  cheese. 
Far  and  few,  far  and  few, 

Are  the  lands  where  the  Jumblies  live : 
Their  heads  are  green,  and  their  hands  are  blue  ; 
And  they  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve. 

VI. 

And  in  twenty  years  they  all  came  back,  — 

In  twenty  years  or  more  ; 
And  every  one  said,  "  How  tall  they've  grown  ! 
For  they've  been  to  the  Lakes  and  the  Torrible  Zone, 

And  the  hills  of  the  Chankly  Bore." 
And  they  drank  their  health,  and  gave  them  a  feast 
Of  dumplings  made  of  beautiful  yeast ; 
And  every  one  said,  "  If  we  only  hve, 
We,  too,  will  go  to  sea  in  a  sieve. 

To  the  hills  of  the  Chankly  Bore." 
Far  and  few,  far  and  few, 

Are  the  lands  where  the  Jumblies  live : 
Their  heads  are  green,  and  their  hands  are  blue  ; 
And  they  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve. 

Edward  L^ar. 


82  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


OLD    IRONSIDES 

A  Y,  tear  her  tattered  ensign  down  ! 
■^  ^     Long  has  it  waved  on  high, 
And  many  an  eye  has  danced  to  see 

That  banner  in  the  sky  ; 
Beneath  it  rung  the  battle  shout, 

And  burst  the  cannon's  roar  ;  — 
The  meteor  of  the  ocean  air 

Shall  sweep  the  clouds  no  more  ! 

Her  deck,  once  red  with  heroes'  blood, 

Where  knelt  the  vanquished  foe. 
When  winds  were  hurrying  o'er  the  flood, 

And  waves  were  white  below, 
No  more  shall  feel  the  victor's  tread 

Or  know  the  conquered  knee  ;  — 
The  harpies  of  the  shore  shall  pluck 

The  eagle  of  the  sea  ! 

Oh,  better  that  her  shattered  hulk 

Should  sink  beneath  the  wave  ; 
Her  thunders  shook  the  mighty  deep, 

And  there  should  be  her  grave  ; 
Nail  to  the  mast  her  holy  flag, 

Set  every  threadbare  sail, 
And  give  her  to  the  god  of  storms, 

The  lightning  and  the  gale  ! 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 


THE    CUMBERLAND.  83 


THE    CUMBERLAND. 

AT  anchor  in  Hampton  Roads  we  lay, 
On  board  the  Cumberland,  sloop-of-war  ; 
And  at  times  from  the  fortress  across  the  bay 
The  alarum  of  drums  swept  past, 
Or  a  bugle  blast 
From  the  camp  on  the  shore. 

Then  far  away  to  the  south  uprose 

A  little  feather  of  snow-white  smoke, 
And  we  knew  that  the  iron  ship  of  our  foes 
Was  steadily  steering  its  course 
To  try  the  force 
Of  our  ribs  of  oak. 

Down  upon  us  heavily  runs, 

Silent  and  sullen,  the  floating  fort ; 
Then  comes  a  puff  of  smoke  from  her  guns, 
And  leaps  the  terrible  death, 
With  fiery  breath, 
From  each  open  port. 

We  are  not  idle,  but  send  her  straight 

Defiance  back  in  a  full  broadside  ! 
As  hail  rebounds  from  a  roof  of  slate, 
Rebounds  our  heavier  hail 
From  each  iron  scale 
Of  the  monster's  hide. 


84  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

"  Strike  your  flag  !  "  the  rebel  cries, 

In  his  arrogant  old  plantation  strain. 
"  Never  !  "  our  gallant  Morris  replies  : 

"  It  is  better  to  sink  than  to  yield  !  " 
And  the  whole  air  pealed 
With  the  cheers  of  our  men. 

Then,  like  a  kraken  huge  and  black, 

She  crushed  our  ribs  in  her  iron  grasp  ! 
Down  went  the  Cumberland,  all  a  wrack, 
With  a  sudden  shudder  of  death, 
And  the  cannon's  breath 
For  her  dying  gasp. 

Next  morn,  as  the  sun  rose  over  the  bay, 

Still  floated  our  flag  at  the  mainmast  head. 
Lord,  how  beautiful  was  Thy  day  ! 
Every  waft  of  the  air 
Was  a  whisper  of  prayer. 
Or  a  dirge  for  the  dead. 

Ho  !  brave  hearts  that  went  down  in  the  seas  ! 

Ye  are  at  peace  in  the  troubled  stream ; 
Ho  !  brave  land  !  with  hearts  like  these, 
Thy  flag,  that  is  rent  in  twain. 
Shall  be  one  again, 
And  without  a  seam  ! 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 


YE  MARINERS  OF  ENGLAND.  §5 

YE   MARINERS    OF   ENGLAND. 

A  Naval  Ode. 
I. 

YE  mariners  of  England, 
That  guard  our  native  seas, 
Whose  flag  has  braved,  a  thousand  years, 
The  battle  and  the  breeze, 
Your  glorious  standard  launch  again 
To  match  another  foe  ! 
And  sweep  through  the  deep 
While  the  stormy  tempests  blow  ; 
While  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long. 
And  the  stormy  tempests  blow. 

II. 
The  spirits  of  your  fathers 
Shall  start  from  every  wave  !  — 
For  the  deck  it  was  their  field  of  fame. 
And  Ocean  was  their  grave  : 
Where  Blake  and  mighty  Nelson  fell. 
Your  manly  hearts  shall  glow. 
As  ye  sweep  through  the  deep. 
While  the  stormy  tempests  blow  ; 
While  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long. 
And  the  stormy  tempests  blow. 

III. 
Britannia  needs  no  bulwark, 
No  towers  along  the  steep  ; 
Her  march  is  o'er  the  mountain-waves, 
Her  home  is  on  the  deep. 


86  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

With  thunders  from  her  native  oak, 
She  quells  the  floods  below, 
As  they  roar  on  the  shore. 
When  the  stormy  tempests  blow  ; 
When  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long, 
And  the  stormy  tempests  blow. 

IV. 

The  meteor  flag  of  England 

Shall  yet  terrific  burn  ; 

Till  danger's  troubled  night  depart, 

And  the  star  of  peace  return. 

Then,  then,  ye  ocean-warriors. 

Our  song  and  feast  shall  flow, 

To  the  fame  of  your  name, 

When  the  storm  has  ceased  to  blow ; 

When  the  fiery  fight  is  heard  no  more, 

And  the  storm  has  ceased  to  blow. 


Thomas  Campbell. 


LOSS    OF  THE    "ROYAL   GEORGE." 

'T^OLL  for  the  brave  ! 
-*-       The  brave  that  are  no  more  ! 
All  sunk  beneath  the  wave, 
Fast  by  their  native  shore  ! 

Eight  hundred  of  the  brave, 


Whose  courage  well  was  tried, 
Had  made  the  vessel  keel, 
And  laid  her  on  her  side. 


LOSS  OF  THE   ''ROYAL   GEORGE:'         87 

A  land-breeze  shook  the  shrouds, 
And  she  was  overset ; 
Down  went  the  "  Royal  George," 
With  all  her  crew  complete. 

Toll  for  the  brave  ! 
Brave  Kempenfelt  is  gone  ; 
His  last  sea-fight  is  fought, 
His  work  of  glory  done. 

It  was  not  in  the  battle  ; 
No  tempest  gave  the  shock ; 
She  sprang  no  fatal  leak, 
She  ran  upon  no  rock. 

His  sword  was  in  its  sheath, 
His  fingers  held  the  pen. 
When  Kempenfelt  went  down, 
With  twice  four  hundred  men. 

Weigh  the  vessel  up. 
Once  dreaded  by  our  foes  ! 
And  mingle  with  our  cup 
The  tear  that  England  owes. 

Her  timbers  yet  are  sound, 

And  she  may  float  again, — 

Full  charged  with  England's  thunder, 

And  plough  the  distant  main  : 

But  Kempenfelt  is  gone, 
His  victories  are  o'er  ; 
And  he  and  his  eight  hundred 
Shall  plough  the  wave  no  more. 


88  SEA  AND  SHORE, 


THE    CHAMBERED    NAUTILUS. 

'T^HIS  is  the  ship  of  pearl  which,  poets  feign, 
■*•       Sails  the  unshadowed  main,  — 
The  venturous  bark  that  flings 
On  the  sweet  summer  wind  its  purpled  wings. 
In  gulfs  enchanted  where  the  siren  sings. 
And  coral  reefs  lie  bare, 
Where  the  cold  sea-maids  rise  to  sun  their  streaming 
hair. 

Its  webs  of  living  gauze  no  more  unfurl, — 

Wrecked  is  the  ship  of  pearl ! 

And  every  chambered  cell, 
Where  its  dim  dreaming  life  was  wont  to  dwell, 
As  the  frail  tenant  shaped  his  growing  shell, 

Before  thee  lies  revealed,  — 
Its  irised  ceiling  rent,  its  sunless  crypt  unsealed. 

Year  after  year  beheld  the  silent  toil 
That  spread  his  lustrous  coil ; 
Still,  as  the  spiral  grew, 
He  left  the  past  year's  dwelling  for  the  new, 
Stole  with  soft  step  its  shining  archway  through, 
Built  up  its  idle  door, 
Stretched  in  his  last-found  home,  and  knew  the  old  no 
more. 

Thanks  for  the  heavenly  message  brought  by  thee, 
Child  of  the  wandering  sea  ! 
Cast  from  her  lap  forlorn, 


A   SEA-SHELL.  89 

From  thy  dead  lips  a  clearer  note  is  born 
Than  ever  Triton  blew  from  wreathed  horn. 
While  on  mine  ear  it  rings, 
Through  the  deep  caves  of  thought  I  hear  a  voice  that 
sings  :  — 

Build  thee  more  stately  mansions,  O  my  soul. 

As  the  swift  seasons  roll ! 

Leave  thy  low-vaulted  past ! 
Let  each  new  temple,  nobler  than  the  last, 
Shut  thee  from  heaven  with  a  dome  more  vast, 

Till  thou  at  length  art  free. 
Leaving  thine  outgrown  shell  by  life's  unresting  sea  ! 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 


A  SEA-SHELL. 

O  EE  what  a  lovely  shell, 
^^     Small  and  pure  as  a  pearl, 
Lying  close  to  my  foot. 

Frail,  but  a  work  divine, 
Made  so  fairily  well 

With  dehcate  spire  and  whorl. 
How  exquisitely  minute 

A  miracle  of  design  ! 

The  tiny  cell  is  forlorn. 
Void  of  the  little  living  will 

That  made  it  stir  on  the  shore. 
Did  he  stand  at  the  diamond  door 


90  SJSA   AND  SHORE. 

Of  his  house  in  a  rainbow  frill  ? 

Did  he  push,  when  he  was  uncurled, 
A  golden  foot  or  a  fairy  horn 

Through  his  dim  water- world  ? 

Slight,  to  be  crushed  with  a  tap 

Of  my  finger-nail  on  the  sand ; 
Small,  but  a  work  divine  ; 

Frail,  but  of  force  to  withstand, 
Year  upon  year,  the  shock 

Of  cataract  seas  that  snap 
The  three-decker's  oaken  spine, 

Athwart  the  ledges  of  rock. 
Here  on  the  Breton  strand. 


Alfred  Tennyson. 


A   FISHING-TOWN. 

QUAINT  clusters  of  gray  houses  crowding  down 
Unto  a  river's  edge  ;  the  river  wide, 
And  flecked  with  fishing-boats  beyond  the  town, 
Incoming  with  the  slow  incoming  tide. 
Moored  to  the  old  pier-end,  a  smack  or  two 
Slow  dandled  by  the  shoreward-setting  swell. 
And  with  their  nets  with  every  dip  wet  through, 
Show  their  black,  pitchy  ribs.     Some  far  ship's  bell 
Comes  in  the  capful  of  light  wind  that  hails 


THE  BELLS  OF  LYNN.  9^ 

From  seaward  ;  while  still  louder  and  more  loud, 

Beneath  the  lowering  hood  of  ashen  cloud, 

Rings  the  hoarse  fisher's  shout.     There  nearing  sails 

Loom  large  and  shadowy  ;  and  the  sunset  gun 

Tells  that  another  day  is  o'er  and  done. 

Anon. 


THE   BELLS    OF   LYNN. 

r~\  CURFEW  of  the  setting  sun  !    O  bells  of  Lynn  ! 
^^     O  requiem  of  the  dying  day  !    O  bells  of  Lynn ! 

From  the  dark  belfries  of  yon  cloud-cathedral  wafted, 
Your  sounds  aerial  seem  to  float,  O  bells  of  Lynn  ! 

Borne  on  the  evening  wind  across  the  crimson  twilight, 
O'er  land  and  sea  they  rise  and  fall,  O  bells  of  Lynn  ! 

The  fisherman  in  his  boat,  far  out  beyond  the  headland, 
Listens  and  leisurely  rows  ashore,  O  bells  of  Lynn  ! 

Over  the  shining  sands,  the  wandering  cattle  home- 
ward 
Follow  each  other  at  your  call,  O  bells  of  Lynn  ! 

The  distant  lighthouse  hears,   and  with   his   flaming 

signal 
Answers  you,  passing  the  watchword  on,  O  bells  of 

Lynn  ! 

And  down  the  darkening  coast  run  the  tumultuous 

surges. 
And  clap  their  hands  and  shout  to  you,  O  bells  of 

Lynn ! 


92  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Till  from  the  shuddering  sea,  with  your  wild  incan- 
tations, 
Ye  summon  up  the  spectral  moon,  O  bells  of  Lynn  ! 

And   startled   at  the  sight,  like  the  weird  woman  of 

End  or, 
Ye  cry  aloud  and  then  are  still,  O  bells  of  Lynn  ! 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 


COMING   HOME. 

^T^HE  lift  is  high  and  blue, 
-^       And  the  new  moon  ghnts  through 
The  bonnie  corn-stooks  o'  Strathairly ; 

My  ship's  in  Largo  Bay, 

And  I  ken  it  weel,  —  the  way 
Up  the  steep,  steep  brae  of  Strathairly. 

When  I  sail'd  ower  the  sea,  — 

A  laddie  bold  and  free,  — 
The  corn  sprang  green  on  Strathairly ; 

When  I  come  back  again, 

'Tis  an  auld  man  walks  his  lane. 
Slow  and  sad  through  the  fields  o'  Strathairly. 

Of  the  shearers  that  I  see, 

Ne'er  a  body  kens  me, 
Though  I  kent  them  a'  at  Strathairly  ; 

And  this  fisher-wife  I  pass, 

Can  she  be  the  braw  lass 
That  I  kiss'd  at  the  back  of  Strathairly  ? 


POMPEII.  93 

Oh,  the  land's  fine,  fine ! 

I  could  buy  it  a'  for  mine, 
My  gowd's  yellow  as  the  stooks  o'  Strathairly ; 

But  I  fain  yon  lad  wad  be, 

That  sail'd  ower  the  salt  sea, 
As  the  dawn  rose  gray  on  Strathairly. 

D.  M.  MuLocK. 


POMPEII. 

'T^HE  silence  there  was  what  most  haunted  me. 
■*•       Long,  speechless  streets,  whose  stepping-stones 

invite 
Feet  which  shall  never  come  ;  to  left  and  right 
Gay  colonnades  and  courts,  —  beyond  the  glee, 
Heartless,  of  that  forgetful  Pagan  sea  ; 
On  roofless  homes  and  waiting  streets,  the  light 
Lies  with  a  pathos  sorrowfuller  than  night. 
Fancy  forbids  this  doom  of  Life  with  Death 
Wedded,  and  with  her  wand  restores  the  Life. 
The  josthng  throngs  swarm,  animate,  beneath 
The  open  shops,  and  all  the  tropic  strife 
Of  voices,  Roman,  Greek,  Barbarian,  mix.    The  wreath 
Indolent  hangs  on  far  Vesuvius'  crest ; 
And  over  aU  the  glowing  town  and  guiltless  sea,  sweet 
rest. 

Thomas  G-  Appleton. 


94  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


AT   DIEPPE. 

'T^HE  shivering  column  of  the  moonlight  lies 
-■-       Upon  the  crumbHng  sea  ; 
Down  the  lone  shore  the  flying  curlew  cries 
Half  humanly. 

With  hoarse,  dull  wash  the  backward  dragging  surge 

Its  raucid  pebbles  rakes, 
Or  swelling  dark  runs  down  with  toppling  verge, 

And  flashing  breaks. 

The  lighthouse  flares  and  darkens  from  the  clifF, 

And  stares  with  lurid  eye 
Fiercely  along  the  sea  and  shore,  as  if 

Some  foe  to  spy. 

What  knowing  thought,  O  ever-moaning  sea, 
Haunts  thy  perturbed  breast,  — 

What  dark  crime  weighs  upon  thy  memory 
And  spoils  thy  rest  ? 

Thy  soft  swell  lifts  and  swings  the  new-launched  yacht 

With  polished  spars  and  deck, 
But  crawls  and  grovels  where  the  bare  ribs  rot 

Of  the  old  wreck. 

O  treacherous  courtier !  thy  deceitful  he 

To  youth  is  gayly  told. 
But  in  remorse  I  see  thee  cringingly 

Crouch  to  the  old. 

W.  W.  Story. 


THE  PELICAN  ISLAND.  95 


THE    PELICAN    ISLAND. 

T    IGHT  as  a  flake  of  foam  upon  the  wind, 
-*— '     Keel-upward  from  the  deep  emerged  a  shell, 
Shaped  hke  the  moon  ere  half  her  horn  is  filled ; 
Fraught  with  young  life,  it  righted  as  it  rose, 
And  moved  at  will  along  the  yielding  water. 
The  native  pilot  of  this  little  bark 
Put  out  a  tier  of  oars  on  either  side, 
Spread  to  the  wafting  breeze  a  twofold  sail, 
And  mounted  up  and  glided  down  the  billow 
In  happy  freedom,  pleased  to  feel  the  air, 
And  wander  in  the  luxury  of  light. 
Worth  all  the  dead  creation,  in  that  hour. 
To  me  appeared  this  lonely  Nautilus, 
My  fellow-being,  like  myself,  alive. 
Entranced  in  contemplation,  vague  yet  sweet, 
I  watched  its  vagrant  course  and  ripphng  wake, 
Till  I  forgot  the  sun  amidst  the  heavens. 

It  closed,  sunk,  dwindled  to  a  point,  then  nothing 
While  the  last  bubble  crowned  the  dimpling  eddy. 
Through  which  my  eyes  still  giddily  pursued  it, 
A  joyous  creature  vaulted  through  the  air,  — 
The  aspiring  fish  that  fain  would  be  a  bird. 
On  long,  light  wings,  that  flung  a  diamond  shower 
Of  dew-drops  round  its  evanescent  form, 
Sprang  into  hght,  and  instantly  descended. 
Ere  I  could  greet  the  stranger  as  a  friend. 
Or  mourn  his  quick  departure  on  the  surge, 
A  shoal  of  dolphins,  tumbling  in  wild  glee, 


96  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Glowed  with  such  orient  tints  they  might  have  been 

The  rainbow's  offspring,  when  it  met  the  ocean 

In  that  resplendent  vision  I  had  seen. 

While  yet  in  ecstasy  I  hung  o'er  these, 

With  every  motion  pouring  out  fresh  beauties, 

As  though  the  conscious  colors  came  and  went 

At  pleasure,  glorying  in  their  subtle  changes,  — 

Enormous  o'er  the  flood,  Leviathan 

Looked  forth,  and  from  his  roaring  nostrils  sent 

Two  fountains  to  the  sky,  then  plunged  amain 

In  headlong  pastime  through  the  closing  gulf. 

James  Montgomery. 

SANTA   CRUZ. 

1869. 

O  AUNTERING  hither  on  listless  wings, 
*^     Careless  vagabond  of  the  sea, 
Little  thou  heedest  the  surf  that  sings, 
The  bar  that  thunders,  the  shale  that  rings,  — 
Give  me  to  keep  thy  company. 

Little  thou  hast,  old  friend,  that's  new, 
Storms  and  wrecks  are  old  things  to  thee; 

Sick  am  I  of  these  changes  too  ; 

Little  to  care  for,  Httle  to  rue,  — 
I  on  the  shore,  and  thou  on  the  sea. 

All  of  thy  wanderings  far  and  near 

Bring  thee  at  last  to  shore  and  me  ; 
AH  of  my  journeyings  end  them  here, 


A   SEA- VIEW.  97 

This  our  tether  must  be  our  cheer, — 
I  on  the  shore,  and  thou  on  the  sea. 

Lazily  rocking  on  ocean's  breast, 

Something  in  common,  old  friend,  have  we  : 
Thou  on  the  shingle  seekest  thy  nest, 
I  to  the  waters  look  for  rest,  — 

I  on  the  shore,  and  thou  on  the  sea. 

Bret  Harte. 


A   SEA-VIEW. 

T  CLIMBED  the  sea-worn  chfFs  that  edged  the  shore, 

-■'     And  looking  downward  watched  the  breakers  curl 

Around  the  rocks,  and  marked  their  mighty  swirl 

Quiver  through  swaying  seaweed  dark  and  hoar. 

Eastward  the  white  caps  rose  with  far-off  roar. 

Against  a  sky  Hke  red  and  purple  pearl. 

Then  hollowed  greenly  in,  and  rushed  to  hurl 

Their  weight  of  water  at  the  cliffs  before. 

Only  a  sea-gull  flying  silently. 

And  one  soft,  rosy  sail,  were  now  in  sight,  — 

A  sail  the  sunset  touched  right  tenderly, 

And  flushed  with  dreamy  glory  faintly  bright. 

Then  fain  would  I  have  crossed  the  tossing  sea, 

Fain  dared  the  storm  to  float  within  that  light. 

Alice  Osborne. 


98  SEA  AND  SHORE. 


HOME-THOUGHTS    FROM    THE    SEA. 

IVrOBLY,  nobly  Cape  Saint  Vincent  to  the  north-west 

-^^      died  away; 

Sunset  ran,  one  glorious  blood-red,  reeking  into  Cadiz 

Bay; 
Bluish  'mid  the  burning  water,  full  in  face  Trafalgar 

lay; 
In  the  dimmest  north-east  distance  dawned  Gibraltar 

grand  and  gray ; 
"  Here  and  here  did  England  help  me,  —  how  can  I 

help  England  ?  "    say 
Whoso  turns  as  I,  this  evening,  turn  to  God  to  praise 

and  pray. 
While  Jove's  planet  rises  yonder,  silent,  over  Africa. 

Robert  Browning. 


A   PICTURE    FROM   APPLEDORE. 

"P  AST  WARD  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see, 
-■-^     Still  eastward,  eastward  endlessly, 
The  sparkle  and  tremor  of  purple  sea 
That  rises  before  you,  a  flickering  hill, 
On  and  on  to  the  shut  of  the  sky ; 
And,  beyond,  you  fancy  it  sloping  until 
The  same  multitudinous  throb  and  thrill 
That  vibrate  under  your  dizzy  eye. 


A   PICTURE   FROM  APPLEDORE.  99 

In  ripples  of  orange  and  pink,  are  sent 
Where  the  poppied  sails  doze  on  the  yard, 
And  the  clumsy  junk  and  proa  lie, 
Sunk  deep  with  precious  woods  and  nard, 
'Mid  the  palmy  isles  of  the  Orient. 
Those  leaning  towers  of  clouded  white. 
On  the  farthest  brink  of  doubtful  ocean, 
That  shorten  and  shorten  out  of  sight. 
Yet  seem  on  the  self-same  spot  to  stay. 
Receding  with  a  motionless  motion, 
Fading  to  dubious  films  of  gray, 
Lost,  dimly  found,  then  vanished  wholly, 
Will  rise  again,  the  great  world  under. 
First  films,  then  towers,  then  high-heaped 

clouds. 
Whose  nearing  outhnes  sharpen  slowly 
Into  tall  ships  with  cobweb  shrouds. 
That  fill  long  Mongol  eyes  with  wonder. 
Crushing  the  violet  wave  to  spray. 
Past  some  low  headland  of  Cathay  :  — 
What  was  that  sigh  that  seemed  so  near, 
Chilling  your  fancy  to  the  core  ? 
'Tis  only  the  sad  old  sea  you  hear. 
That  seems  to  seek  for  evermore 
Something  it  cannot  find,  and  so. 
Sighing,  seeks  on,  and  tells  its  woe 
To  the  pitiless  breakers  of  Appledore. 

James  R.  Lowell. 


loo  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


T' 


DOVER   BEACH. 

'HE  sea  is  calm  to-night. 

The  tide  is  full,  the  moon  lies  fair 
Upon  the  Straits  ;  on  the  French  coast  the  light 
Gleams  and  is  gone  ;  the  cliffs  of  England  stand 
Glimmering  and  vast  out  in  the  tranquil  bay. 
Come  to  the  window,  sweet  is  the  night  air ! 

Only  from  the  long  line  of  spray, 
Where  the  ebb  meets  the  moon-blanched  sand, 

Listen  !  you  hear  the  grating  roar 
Of  pebbles,  which  the  waves  suck  back  and  fling, 

At  their  return,  up  the  high  strand, 
Begin  and  cease,  and  then  again  begin. 
With  tremulous  cadence  slow,  and  bring 

The  eternal  note  of  sadness  in. 

Sophocles  long  ago 
Heard  it  on  the  ^Egean,  and  it  brought 
Into  his  mind  the  turbid  ebb  and  flow 

Of  human  misery  :  we 
Find  also  in  the  sound  a  thought. 
Hearing  it  by  this  distant  northern  sea. 

The  sea  of  faith 
Was  once  too  at  the  full,  and  round  earth's  shore 
Lay  like  the  folds  of  a  bright  girdle  furled  ; 

But  now  I  only  hear 
Its  melancholy,  long  withdrawing  roar, 

Retreating  to  the  breath 
Of  the  night  wind  down  the  vast  edges  drear 

And  naked  shingles  of  the  world. 


AT  BAY  RIDGE,   L.I.  loi 

Ah,  love,  let  us  be  true 
To  one  another  !  for  the  world  which  seems 
To  lie  before  us  like  a  land  of  dreams. 

So  various,  so  beautiful,  so  new, 
Hath  really  neither  joy,  nor  love,  nor  light. 
Nor  certitude,  nor  peace,  nor  help  for  pain  ; 
And  we  are  here  as  on  a  darkling  plain. 
Swept  with  confused  alarms  of  struggle  and  fight, 

Where  ignorant  armies  clash  by  night. 

Matthew  Arnolx). 


AT   BAY  RIDGE,    L.I. 

IDLE  AS  ANT  it  is  to  lie  amid  the  grass 

Under  these  shady  locusts  half  the  day. 
Watching  the  ships  reflected  in  the  Bay, 

Topmast  and  shroud,  as  in  a  wizard's  glass ; 
To  see  the  happy-hearted  martins  pass. 

Brushing  the  dew-drops  from  the  lilac  spray; 
Or  else  to  hang  enamoured  o'er  some  lay 

Of  fairy  regions,  or  to  muse,  alas  ! 
On  Dante  exiled  journeying  outworn  ; 

On  patient  Milton's  sorrowfullest  eyes. 
Shut  from  the  splendors  of  the  Night  and  Morn  ; 

To  think  that  now  beneath  the  Itahan  skies, 
In  such  clear  air  as  this,  by  Tiber's  wave 

Daisies  are  trembling  over  Keats's  grave. 

Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich. 


I02  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

AT    CARNAC. 

May  6,  1859. 

FAR  on  its  rocky  knoll  descried, 
Saint  Michael's  chapel  cuts  the  sky. 
I  climbed  ;  beneath  me  bright  and  wide 
Lay  the  lone  coast  of  Brittany. 

Bright  in  the  sunset,  weird  and  still. 
It  lay  beside  the  Atlantic  wave, 

As  if  the  wizard  Merhn's  will 

Yet  charmed  it  from  his  forest  grave. 

Beside  me,  on  their  grassy  sweep. 

Bearded  with  lichen  scrawled  and  gray, 

The  giant  stones  of  Carnac  sleep. 
In  the  mild  evening  of  the  May. 

No  priestly,  stern  procession  now 

Streams  through  the  rows  of  pillars  old ; 

No  victims  bleed,  no  Druids  bow  ; 

Sheep  make  the  furze-grown  aisles  their  fold. 

From  bush  to  bush  the  cuckoo  flies. 
The  orchis  red  gleams  everywhere  ; 

Gold  broom  with  furze  in  blossom  vies. 
The  blue-bells  perfume  all  the  air. 

And  o'er  the  ghstening,  lonely  land. 
Rise  up  all  round  the  Christian  spires; 

The  church  of  Carnac  by  the  strand 
Catches  the  westerino-  sun's  last  fires. 


THE  SAND-PIPER.  103 

And  there,  across  the  watery  way, 

See,  low  above  the  tide  at  flood, 
The  sickle-sweep  of  Quiberon  Bay, 

Whose  beach  once  ran  with  royal  blood. 

And,  beyond  that,  the  Atlantic  wide  ! 

All  round  no  soul,  no  boat,  no  hail ! 
But,  on  the  horizon's  verge  descried, 

Hangs,  touched  with  light,  one  snowy  sail ! 

Matthew  Arnold. 


THE    SAND-PIPER. 

A  CROSS  the  narrow  beach  we  flit, 

^     One  little  sand-piper  and  I, 
And  fast  I  gather,  bit  by  bit. 

The  scattered  driftwood  bleached  and  dry. 
The  v/ild  waves  reach  their  hands  for  it, 

The  wild  wind  raves,  the  tide  runs  high, 
As  up  and  down  the  beach  we  flit,  — 

One  httle  sand-piper  and  I. 

Above  our  heads  the  sullen  clouds 

Scud  black  and  swift  across  the  sky ; 
Like  silent  ghosts  in  misty  shrouds 

Stand  out  the  white  lighthouses  high. 
Almost  as  far  as  eye  can  reach, 

I  see  the  close-reefed  vessels  fly. 
As  fast  we  flit  along  the  beach,  — 

One  httle  sand-piper  and  I. 


I04  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

I  watch  him  as  he  skims  along, 

Uttering  his  sweet  and  mournful  cry. 
He  starts  not  at  my  fitful  song, 

Or  flash  of  fluttering  drapery. 
He  has  no  thought  of  any  wrong  ; 

He  scans  me  with  a  fearless  eye. 
Stanch  friends  are  we,  well  tried  and  strong, 

The  httle  sand-piper  and  I. 

Comrade,  where  wilt  thou  be  to-night, 

When  the  loosed  storm  breaks  furiously  ? 
My  driftwood  fire  will  burn  so  bright ! 

To  what  warm  shelter  canst  thou  fly  ? 
I  do  not  fear  for  thee,  though  wroth 

The  tempest  rushes  through  the  sky : 
For  are  we  not  God's  children  both, 

Thou,  little  sand-piper,  and  I  ? 

Celia  Thaxtkr. 


THE    STORMY    PETREL. 

A    THOUSAND  miles  from  land  are  we, 
■^  ^     Tossing  about  on  the  stormy  sea, 
From  billow  to  bounding  billow  cast. 
Like  fleecy  snow  on  the  stormy  blast. 
The  sails  are  scattered  abroad  like  weeds  ; 
The  strong  masts  shake  like  quivering  reeds  ; 
The  mighty  cables  and  iron  chains. 
The  hull,  which  all  earthly  strength  disdains, — 
They  strain  and  they  crack  ;  and  hearts  like  stone 
Their  natural,  hard,  proud  strength  disown. 


THE   OCEAN.  105 

Up  and  down  !  up  and  down  ! 

From  the  base  of  the  wave  to  the  billow's  crown, 

And  amidst  the  flashing  and  feathery  foam, 

The  stormy  petrel  finds  a  home. 

A  home  !  if  such  a  place  may  be 

For  her  who  lives  on  the  wide,  wide  sea. 

On  the  craggy  ice,  in  the  frozen  air, 

And  only  seeketh  her  rocky  lair 

To  warm  her  young,  and  to  teach  them  to  spring 

At  once  o'er  the  waves  on  their  stormy  wing. 

O'er  the  deep  !  o'er  the  deep  ! 

Where  the  whale  and  the  shark  and  the  sword-fish 

sleep, 
Outflying  the  blast  and  the  driving  rain, 
The  petrel  telleth  her  tale  —  in  vain  ; 
For  the  mariner  curseth  the  warning  bird 
Which  bringeth  him  news  of  the  storm  unheard  ! 
Ah  !  thus  does  the  prophet  of  good  or  ill 
Meet  hate  from  the  creatures  he  serveth  still ; 
Yet  he  ne'er  falters,  —  so,  petrel,  spring 
Once  more  o'er  the  weaves  on  thy  stormy  wing  ! 

Barry  Cornwall. 


THE    OCEAN. 


'THHERE  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods, 
-*■       There  is  a  rapture  on  the  lonely  shore, 
There  is  society,  where  none  intrudes. 
By  the  deep  sea,  and  music  in  its  roar ; 


io6  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

I  love  not  Man  the  less,  but  Nature  more, 
From  these  our  interviews,  in  which  I  steal 
From  all  I  may  be,  or  have  been  before, 
To  mingle  with  the  Universe,  and  feel 
What  I  can  ne'er  express,  yet  cannot  all  conceal. 

Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean,  — roll ! 
Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain ; 
Man  marks  the  earth  with  ruin,  — his  control 
Stops  with  the  shore  ;  upon  the  watery  plain 
The  wrecks  are  all  thy  deed,  nor  doth  remain 
A  shadow  of  man's  ravage,  save  his  own. 
When,  for  a  moment,  like  a  drop  of  rain, 
He  sinks  into  thy  depths  with  bubbling  groan, 
Without  a  grave,  unknelled,  uncoffined,  and  unknown. 

His  steps  are  not  upon  thy  paths,  —  thy  fields 
Are  not  a  spoil  for  him,  —  thou  dost  arise 
And  shake  him  from  thee  ;  the  vile  strength  he  wields 
For  earth's  destruction,  thou  dost  all  despise. 
Spurning  him  from  thy  bosom  to  the  skies, 
And  send'st  him,  shivering,  in  thy  playful  spray. 
And  howling,  to  his  gods,  where  haply  lies 
His  petty  hope  in  some  near  port  or  bay, 
And  dashest  him  again  to  earth  :  there  let  him  lay. 

The  armaments  which  thunder-strike  the  walls 
Of  rock-built  cities,  bidding  nations  quake. 
And  monarchs  tremble  in  their  capitals  ; 
The  oak  leviathans,  whose  huge  ribs  make 


THE   OCEAN,  107 

Their  clay  creator  the  vain  title  take 
Of  lord  of  thee,  and  arbiter  of  war ; 
These  are  thy  toys,  and  as  the  snowy  flake 
They  melt  into  thy  yeast  of  waves,  which  mar 
Ahke  the  Armada's  pride,  or  spoils  of  Trafalgar. 

Thy  shores  are  empires,  changed  in  all  save  thee, — 
Assyria,  Greece,  Rome,  Carthage,  what  are  they  ? 
Thy  waters  wasted  them  while  they  were  free, 
And  many  a  tyrant  since  ;  their  shores  obey 
The  stranger,  slave,  or  savage  ;  their  decay 
Has  dried  up  realms  to  deserts  :  not  so  thou, 
Unchangeable  save  to  thy  wild  waves'  play, — 
Time  writes  no  wrinkles  on  thy  azure  brow,  — 
Such  as  creation's  dawn  beheld,  thou  rollest  now. 

Thou  glorious  mirror,  where  th'  Almighty's  form 
Glasses  itself  in  tempests  ;  in  all  time, 
Calm  or  convulsed,  —  in  breeze,  or  gale,  or  storm, 
Icing  the  pole,  or  in  the  torrid  clime 
Dark-heaving  ;  boundless,  endless,  and  sublime,  — 
The  image  of  eternity, —  the  throne 
Of  th'  Invisible  ;  even  from  out  thy  shme 
The  monsters  of  the  deep  are  made  ;  each  zone 
Obeys  thee  ;  thou  goest  forth,  dread,  fathomless,  alone. 

And  I  have  loved  thee,  Ocean  !  and  my  joy 
Of  youthful  sports  was  on  thy  breast  to  be 
Borne,  like  thy  bubbles,  onward  ;  from  a  boy 
I  wantoned  with  thy  breakers,  —  they  to  me 


Io8  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Were  a  delight ;  and  if  the  freshening  sea 
Made  them  a  terror,  'twas  a  pleasing  fear, 
For  I  was,  as  it  were,  a  child  of  thee, 
And  trusted  to  thy  billows  far  and  near, 
And  laid  my  hand  upon  thy  mane  —  as  I  do  here. 

Byron. 


TEMPTATION. 


npHE  billows  swell,  the  winds  are  high, 
^       Clouds  overcast  my  wintry  sky  ; 
Out  of  the  depths  to  Thee  I  call,  — 
My  fears  are  great,  my  strength  is  small. 

O  Lord,  the  pilot's  part  perform, 
And  guard  and  guide  me  through  the  storm. 
Defend  me  from  each  threatening  ill, 
Control  the  waves,  say,  "  Peace,  be  still !  " 

Amidst  the  roaring  of  the  sea. 
My  soul  still  hangs  her  hope  on  Thee  ; 
Thy  constant  love,  thy  faithful  care. 
Is  all  that  saves  me  from  despair. 

Dangers  of  every  shape  and  name 
Attend  the  followers  of  the  Lamb, 
Who  leave  the  world's  deceitful  shore, 
And  leave  it  to  return  no  more. 


QUA    CURSUM   VENTUS,  109 

Though  tempest-toss'd  and  half  a  wreck, 
My  Saviour  through  the  floods  I  seek; 
Let  neither  winds  nor  stormy  main 
Force  back  my  shatter'd  bark  again. 

William  Cowper. 


QUA    CURSUM    VENTUS. 

A  S  ships,  becalmed  at  eve,  that  lay, 
'*'  ^     With  canvas  drooping,  side  by  side, 
Two  towers  of  sail,  at  dawn  of  day, 

Are  scarce,  long  leagues  apart,  descried  : 

When  fell  the  night,  upsprung  the  breeze, 
And  all  the  darkling  hours  they  plied  ; 

Nor  dreamt  but  each  the  self-same  seas 
By  each  was  cleaving,  side  by  side ; 

E'en  so  —  but  why  the  tale  reveal 

Of  those  whom,  year  by  year  unchanged, 

Brief  absence  joined  anew,  to  feel, 
Astounded,  soul  from  soul  estranged. 

At  dead  of  night  their  sails  were  filled, 
And  onward  each  rejoicing  steered  ; 

Ah,  neither  blame,  for  neither  willed 
Or  wist  what  first  with  dawn  appeared. 

To  veer,  how  vain  !     On,  onward  strain. 
Brave  barks  !     In  light,  in  darkness  too  ! 

Through  winds  and  tides  one  compass  guides. 
To  that  and  your  own  selves  be  true. 


no  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

But  O  blithe  breeze  !  and  O  great  seas  ! 

Though  ne'er,  that  earhest  parting  past, 
On  your  wide  plain  they  join  again. 

Together  lead  them  home  at  last. 

One  port,  methought,  alike  they  sought,  — 
One  purpose  hold,  where'er  they  fare  ; 

O  bounding  breeze,  O  rushing  seas, 
At  last,  at  last,  unite  them  there  ! 

Arthur  Hugh  Clough. 

THE    PILGRIMS. 

T  TPON  the  white  sea-sand 

^-^      There  sat  a  pilgrim-band. 
Telling  the  losses  that  their  lives  had  known, 

While  evening  waned  away 

From  breezy  cliflf  and  bay, 
And  the  strong  tides  went  out  with  weary  moan. 

One  spake,  with  quivering  lip. 

Of  a  fair- freighted  ship. 
With  all  his  household,  to  the  deep  gone  down; 

And  one  had  wilder  woe, 

For  a  fair  face  long  ago 
Lost  in  the  darker  depths  of  a  great  town. 

There  were  who  mourned  their  youth 

With  a  most  loving  truth. 
For  its  brave  hopes  and  memories  ever  green; 

And  one  upon  the  west 

Turned  an  eye  that  would  not  rest. 
For  far-off  hills  whereon  his  joy  had  been. 


''SPOKENr  III 

Some  talked  of  vanished  gold, 

Some  of  proud  honors  told, 
Some  spake  of  friends  that  were  their  trust  no  more; 

And  one  of  a  green  grave, 

Beside  a  foreign  wave, 
That  made  him  sit  so  lonely  on  the  shore. 

But  when  their  tales  were  done, 

There  spake  among  them  one,  — 
A  stranger,  seeming  from  all  sorrow  free, — 

"  Sad  losses  have  ye  met, 

But  mine  is  heavier  yet. 
For  a  believing  heart  hath  gone  from  me." 

"Alas  !  "  these  pilgrims  said, 

"  For  the  living  and  the  dead, 
For  fortune's  cruelty  and  love's  sure  cross, 

For  the  wrecks  of  land  and  sea  ! 

But,  however  it  came  to  thee, 
Thine,  stranger,  is  life's  last  and  heaviest  loss  ! " 

Frances  Brown. 


"SPOKEN." 

/COUNTING  the  hours  by  bells  and  lights, 

^-^  We  rose  and  sank  ; 

The  waves,  on  royal  banquet-heights. 

Tossed  oif  and  drank 
Their  jewels  made  of  sun  and  moon. 
White  pearls  at  midnight,  gold  at  noon. 


112  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Counting  the  hours  by  bells  and  lights, 
We  sailed  and  sailed  ; 

Six  lonely  days,  six  lonely  nights. 
No  ship  we  hailed. 

Till  all  the  sea  seemed  bound  in  spell, 

And  silence  sounded  hke  a  knell. 

At  last,  just  when  by  bells  and  lights 

Of  seventh  day 
The  dawn  grew  clear,  in  sudden  flights 

White  sails  away 
To  east,  like  birds,  went  spreading  slow 
Their  wings,  which  reddened  in  the  glow. 

No  more  we  count  the  bells  and  lights : 

We  laugh  for  joy  ! 
The  trumpets  with  their  brazen  mights 

Call,  "  Ship  ahoy  !  " 
We  hold  each  other's  hands  ;  our  cheeks 
Are  wet  with  tears  ;  but  no  one  speaks. 

In  instant  comes  the  sun,  and  hghts 

The  ship  with  fire  ; 
Each  mast  creeps  up  to  dizzy  heights, 

A  blazing  spire  ; 
One  faint  "  Ahoy,"  then  all  in  vain 
We  look  ;  we  are  alone  again. 

I  have  forgotten  bells  and  lights, 
And  waves  which  drank 

Their  jewels  up  ;  those  days  and  nights, 
Which  rose  and  sank, 


'' SPOKE  Nr  113 

Have  turned  like  other  pasts,  and  fled, 
And  carried  with  them  all  their  dead. 

But  every  day  that  fire-ship  lights 

My  distant  blue, 
And  every  day  glad  wonder  smites 

My  heart  anew, 
How  in  that  instant  each  could  heed. 
And  hear  the  other's  swift  "  God-speed  !  " 

Counting  by  hours  thy  days  and  nights 
In  weariness, 

0  patient  soul,  on  godlike  heights 

Of  loneliness, 

1  passed  thee  by ;  tears  filled  our  eyes  ; 

The  loud  winds  mocked  and  drowned  our  cries. 

The  hours  go  by,  with  bells  and  fights  ; 

We  sail,  we  drift ; 
Our  souls,  in  changing  tasks  and  rites, 

Find  work  and  shrift. 
But  this  I  pray,  and  praying  know, 
Till  faith  almost  to  joy  can  grow. 

That  hour  by  hour  the  bells,  the  lights, 

Of  sound,  of  flam.e. 
Weave  spell  which  ceaselessly  recites 

To  thee  a  name, 
And  smiles  which  thou  canst  not  forget 
For  thee  are  suns  which  never  set. 

H.  H. 


114  S^A   AND  SHORE. 


SEEN   AND    UNSEEN. 

'T^HE  wind  ahead,  the  billows  high, 

-*-       A  whited  wave,  but  sable  sky, 
And  many  a  league  of  tossing  sea 
Between  the  hearts  I  love  and  me.  - 

The  wind  ahead  :  day  after  day 
These  weary  words  the  sailors  say  ; 
To  weeks  the  days  are  lengthened  now, — 
Still  mounts  the  surge  to  meet  our  prow. 

Through  longing  day  and  lingering  night 
I  still  accuse  Time's  lagging  flight, 
Or  gaze  out  o'er  the  envious  sea, 
That  keeps  the  hearts  I  love  from  me. 

Yet,  ah,  how  shallow  is  all  grief ! 
How  instant  is  the  deep  rehef ! 
And  what  a  hypocrite  am  I 
To  feign  forlorn,  to  'plain  and  sigh  ! 

The  wnnd  ahead  ?     The  wind  is  free  ! 
Forevermore  it  favoreth  me, 
To  shores  of  God  still  blowing  fair, 
O'er  seas  of  God  my  bark  doth  bear. 

This  surging  brine  /do  not  sail. 
This  blast  adverse  is  not  my  gale  ; 
'Tis  here  I  only  seem  to  be. 
But  really  sail  another  sea,  — 


SEEN  AND   UNSEEN.  115 

Another  sea,  pure  sky  its  waves, 

Whose  beauty  hides  no  heaving  graves,  — 

A  sea  all  haven,  whereupon 

No  hapless  bark  to  wreck  has  gone. 

The  winds  that  o'er  my  ocean  run 
Reach  through  all  heavens  beyond  the  sun  ; 
Through  life  and  death,  through  fate,  through  time, 
Grand  breaths  of  God,  they  sweep  sublime. 

Eternal  trades,  they  cannot  veer. 
And,  blowing,  teach  us  how  to  steer ; 
And  well  for  him  whose  joy,  whose  care, 
Is  but  to  keep  before  them  fair. 

Oh,  thou  God's  mariner,  heart  of  mine, 
Spread  canvas  to  the  airs  divine  ! 
Spread  sail  !  and  let  thy  Fortune  be 
Forgotten  in  thy  Destiny. 

For  Destiny  pursues  us  well, 

By  sea,  by  land,  through  heaven  or  hell  : 

It  suffers  Death  alone  to  die, 

Bids  Life  all  change  and  chance  defy. 

Would  earth's  dark  ocean  suck  thee  down  ? 
Earth's  ocean  thou,  O  Life,  shalt  drown, 
Shalt  flood  it  with  thy  finer  wave, 
And,  sepulchred,  entomb  thy  grave  ! 

Life  loveth  life  and  good  ;  then  trust 
What  most  the  spirit  would,  it  must ; 
Deep  wishes,  in  the  heart  that  be, 
Are  blossoms  of  Necessity. 


Ii6  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

A  thread  of  Law  runs  through  thy  prayer, 
Stronger  than  iron  cables  are  ; 
And  Love  and  Longing  toward  her  goal 
Are  pilots  sweet  to  guide  the  Soul. 

So  Life  must  live,  and  Soul  must  sail. 
And  Unseen  over  Seen  prevail. 
And  all  God's  argosies  come  to  shore, 
Let  ocean  smile,  or  rage  and  roar. 

And  so,  'mid  storm  or  calm,  my  bark 
With  snowy  wake  still  nears  her  mark  ; 
Cheerly  the  trades  of  being  blow. 
And  sweeping  down  the  wind  I  go. 

D.  A.  Wasson. 

AT   SEA. 

npHE  night  is  made  for  cooling  shade, 

-^  For  silence  and  for  sleep  ; 
And  when  I  was  a  child,  I  laid 
My  hands  upon  my  breast  and  prayed, 

And  sank  to  slumbers  deep  : 
Child-like  as  then  I  lie  to-night. 
And  watch  my  lonely  cabin  light. 

Each  movement  of  the  swaying  lamp 
Shows  how  the  vessel  reels. 

As  o'er  her  deck  the  billows  tramp. 

And  all  her  timbers  strain  and  cramp, 
With  every  shock  she  feels. 

It  starts  and  shudders,  while  it  burns, 

And  in  its  hincred  socket  turns. 


A  NAME  IN  THE  SAND.  117 

Now  swinging  slow,  and  slanting  low, 

It  almost  level  lies  ; 
And  yet  I  know,  while  to  and  fro 
I  watch  the  seeming  pendule  go 

With  restless  fall  and  rise, 
The  steady  shaft  is  still  upright. 
Poising  its  httle  globe  of  hght. 

0  hand  of  God  !  O  lamp  of  peace  ! 

O  promise  of  my  soul ! 
Though  weak,  and  tossed,  and  ill  at  ease, 
Amid  the  roar  of  smiting  seas. 

The  ship's  convulsive  roll, 

1  own,  with  love  and  tender  awe. 
Yon  perfect  type  of  perfect  law  ! 

A  heavenly  trust  my  spirit  calms, 

My  soul  is  filled  with  light : 
The  ocean  sings  his  solemn  psalms, 
The  wild  winds  chant :   I  cross  my  palms, 

Happy  as  if,  to-night, 
Under  the  cottage  roof,  again 
I  heard  the  soothing  summer  rain. 

J.  T.  Trowbridge. 


A  NAME    IN   THE   SAND. 

A  LONE  I  walked  the  ocean  strand; 
A  pearly  shell  was  in  my  hand : 
I  stooped  and  wrote  upon  the  sand 
My  name,  the  year,  the  day. 


Il8  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

As  onward  from  the  spot  I  passed, 
One  lingering  look  behind  I  cast: 
A  wave  came  rolling  high  and  fast, 
And  washed  my  lines  away. 

And  so,  methought,  'twill  shortly  be 
With  every  mark  on  earth  from  me  : 
A  wave  of  dark  Oblivion's  sea 

Will  sweep  across  the  place 
Where  I  have  trod  the  sandy  shore 
Of  Time,  and  been  to  be  no  more,  — 
Of  me,  my  day,  the  name  I  bore, 

To  leave  nor  track  nor  trace. 

And  yet,  with  Him  who  counts  the  sands, 
And  holds  the  waters  in  his  hands, 
I  know  a  lasting  record  stands, 

Inscribed  against  my  name, 
Of  all  this  mortal  part  has  wrought. 
Of  all  this  thinking  soul  has  thought. 
And  from  these  fleeting  moments  caught 

For  glory  or  for  shame. 

Hannah  F.  Gould. 


SEA-SHORE. 

T  HEARD,  or  seemed  to  hear,  the  chiding  Sea 
-*■     Say,  Pilgrim,  why  so  late  and  slow  to  come  } 
Am  I  not  always  here,  thy  summer  home  ? 
Is  not  my  voice  thy  music,  morn  and  eve  ? 
My  breath,  thy  healthful  chmate  in  the  heats, 
My  touch  thy  antidote,  my  bay  thy  bath  .'' 


SEA-SHORE.  119 

Was  ever  building  like  my  terraces  ? 

Was  ever  couch  magnificent  as  mine  ? 

Lie  on  the  warm  rock-ledges,  and  there  learn 

A  little  hut  suffices  like  a  town. 

I  make  your  sculptured  architecture  vain, 

Vain  beside  mine.     I  drive  my  wedges  home, 

And  carve  the  coastwise  mountain  into  caves. 

Lo  !  here  is  Rome,  and  Nineveh,  and  Thebes, 

Karnak,  and  Pyramid,  and  Giant's  Stairs, 

Half  piled  or  prostrate  ;  and  my  newest  slab 

Older  than  all  thy  race. 

Behold  the  Sea, 
The  opaline,  the  plentiful  and  strong. 
Yet  beautiful  as  is  the  rose  in  June, 
Fresh  as  the  trickling  rainbow  of  July  ; 
Sea  full  of  food,  the  nourisher  of  kinds, 
Purger  of  eartli,  and  medicine  of  men ; 
Creating  a  sweet  climate  by  my  breath, 
Washing  out  harms  and  griefs  from  memory. 
And,  in  my  mathematic  ebb  and  flow. 
Giving  a  hint  of  that  which  changes  not. 
Rich  are  the  sea-gods  ;  —  who  gives  gifts  but  they  ? 
They  grope  the  sea  for  pearls,  but  more  than  pearls  : 
They  pluck  Force  thence,  and  give  it  to  the  wise. 
For  every  wave  is  wealth  to  Daedalus, 
Wealth  to  the  cunning  artist  who  can  work 
This    matchless    strength.     Where    shall   he   find,    O 

waves  ! 
A  load  your  Atlas  shoulders  cannot  lift  ? 
I  with  my  hammer,  pounding  evermore 
The  rocky  coast,  smite  Andes  into  dust. 


SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Strewing  my  bed,  and,  in  another  age 

Rebuild  a  continent  of  better  men. 

Then  I  unbar  the  doors  :  my  paths  lead  out 

The  exodus  of  nations  :   I  disperse 

Men  to  all  shores  that  front  the  hoary  main. 

I,  too,  have  arts  and  sorceries  ; 
Illusion  dwells  for  evei  with  the  wave. 
I  know  what  spells  are  laid.     Leave  me  to  deal 
With  credulous  and  imaginative  man  ; 
For,  though  he  scoop  my  water  in  his  palm, 
A  few  rods  off  he  deems  it  gems  and  clouds. 
Planting  strange  fruits  and  sunshine  on  the  shore? 
I  make  some  coast  alluring,  some  lone  isle, 
To  distant  men,  who  must  go  there,  or  die. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


MY   LIFE    IS    LIKE   A    STROLL   UPON    THE 
BEACH. 

iy /TY  Hfe  is  hke  a  stroll  upon  the  beach, 
-'-'-'-     As  near  the  ocean's  edge  as  I  can  go  ; 
My  tardy  steps  its  waves  sometimes  o'erreach, 
Sometimes  I  stay  to  let  them  overflow. 

My  sole  employment  'tis,  and  scrupulous  care, 
To  place  my  gains  beyond  the  reach  of  tides  ; 

Each  smoother  pebble,  and  each  shell  more  rare, 
Which  ocean  kindly  to  my  hand  confides. 

I  have  but  few  companions  on  the  shore. 

They  scorn  the  strand  who  sail  upon  the  sea  ; 

Yet  oft  I  think  the  ocean  they've  sailed  o'er 
Is  deeper  known  upon  the  strand  to  me. 


MEN  GOING   TO  SEA.  I2i 

The  middle  sea  contains  no  crimson  dulse, 
Its  deeper  waves  cast  up  no  pearls  to  view; 

Along  the  shore  my  hand  is  on  its  pulse, 

And  I  converse  with  many  a  shipwrecked  crew. 

Henry  D.  Thokeau. 


LINES  ON  NEW  HAMPSHIRE  MEN  GOING 
TO    SEA. 

'T^HOUGH  all  the  fates  should  prove  unkind, 
-^       Leave  not  your  native  land  behind. 
The  ship,  becalmed,  at  length  stands  still ; 
The  steed  must  rest  beneath  the  hill ; 
But  swiftly  still  our  fortunes  pace, 
To  find  us  out  in  every  place. 

The  vessel,  though  her  masts  be  firm, 
Beneath  her  copper  bears  a  worm  ; 
Around  the  cape,  across  the  line, 
Till  fields  of  ice  her  course  confine  ; 
It  matters  not  how  smooth  the  breeze, 
How  shallow  or  how  deep  the  seas, 
Whether  she  bears  Manilla  twine, 
Or  in  her  hold  Madeira  wine. 
Or  China  teas,  or  Spanish  hides. 
In  port  or  quarantine  she  rides  ; 
Far  from  New  England's  blustering  shore. 
New  England's  worm  her  hulk  shall  bore. 
And  sink  her  in  the  Indian  seas, 

1 

Henry  D.  Thoreau. 


122  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


CHILDREN    ON    THE   SHORE. 

TT  7E  are  building  little  homes  on  the  sands, 

'  ^     We  are  making  little  rooms  very  gay, 
We  are  busy  with  our  hearts  and  our  hands, 

We  are  sorry  that  the  time  flits  away. 
Oh,  why  are  the  minutes  in  such  haste  ? 

Oh,  why  don't  they  leave  us  to  our  play  ? 
Our  lessons  and  our  meals  are  such  waste  ! 

We  can  dine  very  well  another  day. 

We  do  not  mind  the  tide  coming  in. 

We  can  dig  it  a  cunning  little  bed, 
Or  leave  our  pretty  house  and  begin 

Another  pretty  house  in  its  stead  ; 
We  do  not  mind  the  sun  in  our  eyes. 

When  it  makes  such  a  dazzle  of  the  world 
That  we  cannot  tell  the  sea  from  the  skies, 

Nor  look  where  the  flying  drops  are  hurled. 

The  shells  that  we  gather  are  so  fair. 

The  birds  and  the  clouds  are  so  kind. 
And  the  winds  are  so  merry  with  our  hair, 

It  is  only  the  People  that  we  mind  ! 
Papa,  if  you  come  so  very  near, 

We  can't  build  the  library  to-day  ; 
We  think  you  are  tired  of  being  here, 

And  perhaps  you  would  like  to  go  away. 


DEEP-SEA   SOUNDINGS.  1 23 

There  are  just  one  or  two  we  won't  refuse, 

If  they  come  by,  to  help  us  now  and  then  ; 
But  we  want  only  friends  to  be  of  use, 

And  not  all  these  idle  grown  men. 
Perhaps  if  we  hurry  very  much. 

And  don't  lose  an  instant  of  the  day, 
There'll  be  time  for  the  last  lovely  touch, 

Before  the  sea  sweeps  it  all  away  ! 


Anon. 


M 


DEEP-SEA    SOUNDINGS. 
ARINER,  what  of  the  deep  ? 


This  of  the  deep ; 
Twilight  is  there,  and  solemn,  changeless  calm; 
Beauty  is  there,  and  tender,  heahng  balm,  — 
Balm  with  no  root  in  earth,  or  air,  or  sea  ; 
Poised  by  the  finger  of  God,  it  floateth  free. 
And,  as  it  treadeth  the  waves,  the  sound  doth  rise, 
Hither  shall  come  no  farther  sacrifice  ; 
Never  again  the  anguished  clutch  at  life, 
Never  again  great  Love  and  Death  at  strife. 
He  who  hath  suffered  all  need  fear  no  more, 
Quiet  his  portion  now  for  evermore. 

Mariner,  what  of  the  deep  ? 

This  of  the  deep  : 
Solitude  dwells  not  there,  though  silence  reign ; 
Mighty  the  brotherhood  of  loss  and  pain  ; 
There  is  communion  past  the  need  of  speech, 
There  is  a  love  no  words  of  love  can  reach ; 


124  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Heavy  the  waves  that  superincumbent  press, 
But  as  we  labor  here  with  constant  stress, 
Hand  doth  hold  out  to  hand  not  help  alone, 
But  the  deep  bliss  of  being  fully  known. 
There  are  no  kindred  hke  the  kin  of  sorrow, 
There  is  no  hope  like  theirs  who  fear  no  morrow. 

Mariner,  what  of  the  deep  ? 

This  of  the  deep  : 
Though  we  have  travelled  past  the  line  of  day, 
Glory  of  night  doth  light  us  on  our  way  ; 
Radiance  that  comes  we  know  not  how  or  whence, 
Rainbows  without  the  rain  past  duller  sense, 
Music  of  hidden  reefs  and  waves  long  past. 
Thunderous  organ-tones  from  far-off  blast, 
Harmony  victrix  clothed  in  state  subhme, 
Couched  on  the  wrecks  begemmed  with  pearls  of  time ; 
Never  a  wreck  but  brings  some  beauty  here  ; 
Down  where   the  waves   are   stilled,  the   sea   shines 

clear  ; 
Deeper  than  life,  the  plan  of  life  doth  lie. 
He  who  knows  all  fears  naught.     Great  Death  shall 

die. 

Anon. 

FROM    "IN    MEMORIAM." 

TI?AIR  ship  that  from  the  Itahan  shore 
-^        Sai lest  the  placid  ocean  plains, 

With  my  lost  Arthur's  loved  remains, 
Spread  thy  full  wings  and  waft  him  o'er  ! 


FROM  ''IN  MEMORIAMr  125 

So  draw  him  home  to  those  that  mourn 
In  vain  ;  a  favorable  speed 
Ruffle  thy  mirrored  mast,  and  lead 

Through  prosperous  floods  his  holy  urn  ! 

All  night  no  ruder  air  perplex 

Thy  sliding  keel,  till  Phosphor,  bright 
As  our  pure  love,  through  early  light 

Shall  glimmer  on  the  dewy  decks  ! 

Sphere  all  your  lights  around,  above  ; 

Sleep,  gentle  heavens,  before  the  prow  ; 

Sleep,  gentle  winds,  as  he  sleeps  now, 
My  friend,  the  brother  of  my  love  ! 

My  Arthur,  whom  I  shall  not  see 

Till  all  my  widowed  race  be  run  ; 
Dear  as  the  mother  to  the  son, 

More  than  my  brothers  are  to  me  ! 


I  hear  the  noise  about  thy  keel ; 

I  hear  the  bell  struck  in  the  night ; 

I  see  the  cabin  window  bright ; 
I  see  the  sailor  at  the  wheel. 

Thou  bringest  the  sailor  to  his  wife. 

And  travelled  men  from  foreign  lands 
And  letters  unto  trembhng  hands  ; 

And  thy  dark  freight,  a  vanished  life. 

So  bring  him  :  we  have  idle  dreams  ; 
This  Jook  of  quiet  flatters  thus 
Our  home-bred  fancies- ;  oh,  to  us, 

The  fools  of  habit,  sweeter  seems 


126  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

To  rest  beneath  the  clover  sod, 

That  takes  the  sunshine  and  the  rains, 
Or  where  the  kneehng  hamlet  drains 

The  chahce  of  the  grapes  of  God  ; 

Than  if  with  thee  the  roaring  wells 

Should  gulf  him  fathom  deep  in  brine, 
And  hands  so  often  clasped  in  mine 

Should  toss  with  tangle  and  with  shells. 


Thou  comest  much  wept  for  ;  such  a  breeze 
Compelled  thy  canvas,  and  my  prayer 
Was  as  the  whisper  of  an  air, 

To  breathe  thee  over  lonely  seas. 

For  I  in  spirit  saw  thee  move 

Through  circles  of  the  bounding  sky, 
Week  after  week  ;  the  days  go  by  ; 

Come  quick,  thou  bringest  all  I  love. 

Henceforth,  wherever  thou  mayest  roam. 
My  blessing,  like  a  line  of  light, 
Is  on  the  waters  day  and  night. 

And,  like  a  beacon,  guards  thee  home. 

So  may  whatever  tempest  mars 

Mid-ocean  spare  thee,  sacred  bark, 
And  balmy  drops  in  summer  dark 

Slide  from  the  bosom  of  the  stars. 

So  kind  an  office  hath  been  done. 

Such  precious  rehcs  brought  by  thee  ; 
The  dust  of  him  I  shall  not  see. 

Till  all  my  widowed  race  be  run. 


Alfred  Tennyson. 


UNDER    THE  SURFACE.  127 


UNDER    THE    SURFACE. 


/^N  the  surface,  foam  and  roar, 

^-^     Restless  heave  and  passionate  dash; 

Shingle  rattle  along  the  shore, 

Gathering  boom  and  thundering  crash. 

Under  the  surface,  soft  green  hght, 
A  hush  of  peace  and  an  endless  calm, 

Wind  and  waves  from  a  choral  height 
Falling  sweet  as  a  far-off  psalm. 

On  the  surface,  swell  and  swirl. 

Tossing  weed  and  drifting  waif. 
Broken  spars  that  the  mad  waves  whirl, 

Where  round  wreck- watching  rocks  they  chafe. 

Under  the  surface,  loveliest  forms. 
Feathery  fronds  with  crimson  curl,  — 

Treasures  too  deep  for  the  raid  of  storms,  — 
Delicate  coral  and  hidden  pearl. 

II. 

On  the  surface,  lilies  white, 

A  painted  skiff  with  a  singing  crew, 

Sky  reflections  soft  and  bright, 
Tremulous  crimson,  gold,  and  blue. 


128  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Under  the  surface,  life  in  death, 

SHmy  tangle  and  oozy  moans, 
Creeping  things  with  watery  breath, 

Blackening  roots  and  whitening  bones. 

On  the  surface,  a  shining  reach, 

A  crystal  couch  for  the  moonbeam's  rest, 

Starry  ripples  along  the  beach, 

Sunset  songs  from  the  breezy  west. 

Under  the  surface,  glooms  and  fears, 
Treacherous  currents,  swift  and  strong, 

Deafening  rush  in  the  drowning  ears. — 
Have  ye  rightly  read  my  song  .'* 

Frances  Ridley  Havkrgall. 


SHIPS    AT    SEA. 

T  HAVE  ships  that  went  to  sea 
-^     More  than  fifty  years  ago  ; 
None  have  yet  come  home  to  me, 

But  are  sailing  to  and  fro. 
I  have  seen  them  in  my  sleep. 
Plunging  through  the  shoreless  deep. 
With  tattered  sails,  and  battered  hulls, 
While  around  them  screamed  the  gulls, 
Flying  low,  —  flying  low. 

I  have  wondered  why  they  stayed 
From  me,  saiHng  round  the  world; 

And  I've  said,  "  I'm  half  afraid 

That  their  sails  will  ne'er  be  furled." 


SIIIFS  AT  SEA.  129 

Great  the  treasure  that  they  hold,  — 
Silks,  and  plumes,  and  bars  of  gold; 
While  the  spices  that  they  bear 
Fill  with  fragrance  all  the  air. 
As  they  sail,  —  as  they  sail. 

Ah  !  each  sailor  in  the  port 

Knows  that  I  have  ships  at  sea, 
Of  the  waves  and  winds  the  sport ; 

And  the  sailors  pity  me. 
Oft  they  come  and  with  me  walk, 
Cheering  me  with  hopeful  talk, 
Till  I  put  my  fears  aside, 
And,  contented,  watch  the  tide 
Rise  and  fall,  —  rise  and  fall. 

I  have  waited  on  the  piers, 

Gazing  for  them  down  the  bay, 
Days  and  nights,  for  many  years. 

Till  I've  turned,  heart-sick,  away. 
But  the  pilots,  when  they  land. 
Stop  and  take  me  by  the  hand, 
Saying,  "  You  will  hke  to  see 
Your  proud  ships  come  home  from  sea, 
One  and  all,  — one  and  all." 

So  I  never  quite  despair, 

Nor  let  hope  nor  courage  fail ; 
And  some  day,  when  skies  are  fair, 

Up  the  bay  my  ships  will  sail. 


130  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

I  shall  buy  then  all  I  need,  — 
Prints  to  look  at,  books  to  read, 
Horses,  wines,  and  works  of  art, 
Everything,  —  except  a  heart. 
That  is  lost,  —that  is  lost ! 

Once  when  I  was  pure  and  young. 

Richer  too  than  I  am  now. 
Ere  a  cloud  was  o'er  me  flung. 
Or  a  wrinkle  crossed  my  brow, 
There  was  one  whose  heart  was  mine 
But  she's  something  now  divine, 
And  though  come  my  ships  from  sea. 
They  can  bring  no  heart  to  me 
Evermore,  — evermore. 


Barry  Gray. 


THE   TWO    SHIPS. 

A  S  I  stand  by  the  cross  on  the  lone  mountain's 
'^^-  crest, 

Looking  over  the  ultimate  sea. 
In  the  gloom  of  the  mountain  a  ship  lies  at  rest. 

And  one  sails  away  from  the  lea : 
One  spreads  its  white  wings  on  a  far-reaching  track. 

With  pennant  and  sheet  flowing  free  ; 
One  hides  in  the  shadow,  with  sails  laid  aback,  — 

The  ship  that  is  waiting  for  me  ! 


MY  SHIP.  131 

But  lo  !  in  the  distance  the  clouds  break  away  ! 

The  Gate's  glowing  portal  I  see ; 
And  I  hear  from  the  outgoing  ship  in  the  bay 

The  song  of  the  sailors  in  glee  : 
So  I  think  of  the  luminous  footprints  that  bore 

The  comfort  o'er  dark  Galilee, 
And  wait  for  the  signal  to  go  to  the  shore, 

To  the  ship  that  is  waiting  for  me. 

Bret  Harte. 


MY    SHIP. 

T~\OWN  to  the  wharves,  as  the  sun  goes  down, 
-^-^     And  the  daylight's  tumult  and  dust  and  din 
Are  dying  away  in  the  busy  town, 
I  go  to  see  if  my  ship  comes  in. 

I  gaze  far  over  the  quiet  sea, 

Rosy  with  sunset,  like  mellow  wine. 

Where  ships,  hke  lihes,  lie  tranquilly. 
Many  and  fair,  —  but  I  see  not  mine. 

I  question  the  sailors  every  night, 

Who  over  the  bulwarks  idly  lean. 
Noting  the  sails  as  they  come  in  sight,  — 

"  Have  you  seen  my  beautiful  ship  come  in  ?  " 

"  Whence  does  she  come  ?  "  they  ask  of  me  ; 

"  Who  is  her  master,  and  what  her  name  ?  " 
And  they  smile  upon  me  pityingly. 

When  my  answer  is  ever  and  ever  the  same. 


132  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Oh,  mine  was  a  vessel  of  strength  and  truth, 
Her  sails  were  white  as  a  young  lamb's  fleece, 

She  sailed  long  since  from  the  port  of  Youth, — 
Her  master  was  Love,  and  her  name  was  Peace. 


And,  like  all  beloved  and  beauteous  things, 
She  faded  in  distance  and  doubt  away,  — 

With  only  a  tremble  of  snowy  wings 
She  floated,  swan-like,  adown  the  bay. 

Carrying  with  her  a  precious  freight,  — 
All  I  had  gathered  by  years  of  pain  ; 

A  tempting  prize  to  the  pirate.  Fate,  — 
And  still  I  watch  for  her  back  again  ;  — 

Watch  from  the  earliest  morning  hght. 

Till  the  pale  stars  grieve  o'er  the  dying  day, 

To  catch  the  gleam  of  her  canvas  white 
Among  the  islands  which  gem  the  bay. 

But  she  comes  not  yet,  —  she  will  never  come 
To  gladden  my  eyes  and  my  spirit  more  ; 

And  my  heart  grows  hopeless  and  faint  and  dumb. 
As  I  wait  and  wait  on  the  lonesome  shore. 

Knowing  that  tempest  and  time  and  storm 

Have  wrecked  and  shattered  my  beauteous  bark  ; 

Rank  sea-weeds  cover  her  wasting  form. 

And  her  sails  are  tattered  and  stained  and  dark. 


A    QUEST.  133 

But  the  tide  comes  up,  and  the  tide  goes  down, 
And  the  daylight  follows  the  night's  eclipse,  — 

And  still  with  the  sailors,  tanned  and  brown, 
I  wait  on  the  wharves  and  watch  the  ships. 

And  still  with  a  patience  that  is  not  hope, 
For  vain  and  empty  it  long  hath  been, 

I  sit  on  the  rough  shore's  rocky  slope, 
And  watch  to  see  if  my  ship  comes  in. 

Elizabeth  Akers. 


A    QUEST. 

\  LL  in  the  summer  even, 
•'-  ^     When  sea  and  sky  were  bright, 
As  royally  the  sunset 

Went  forth  to  meet  the  night, 

My  Love  and  I  were  sailing 

Into  the  shining  west. 
To  find  some  Happy  Island, 

Some  Paradise  of  rest. 

We  steered  where  sunset  splendor 
Turned  into  gold  the  shore  ; 

The  rocks  behind  its  brightness 
Were  cruel  as  before. 

Within  the  caves  sang  sirens. 
But  there  the  whirlpools  be  ; 

Not  there  the  Happy  Islands, 
Not  there  the  peaceful  sea. 


134  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Toward  the  deep  mid-ocean 

Tides  ran  and  swift  winds  blew; 

It  must  be  there  those  Islands 
Await  the  longing  view. 

Their  shores  are  soft  with  verdure, 

Their  skies  for  ever  fair, 
And  always  is  the  fragrance 

Of  blossoms  on  the  air. 

I  set  our  sail  to  seek  them, 
But  she,  my  Love,  drew  back  : 

"  Not  yet ;  the  night  is  chilly, 
I  fear  that  unknown  track." 

So  home  we  sailed,  at  twihght, 

To  the  familiar  shore  ; 
Turned  from  the  golden  glory, 

To  live  the  old  Hfe  o'er. 

We'll  make  no  further  ventures,  — 

For  timid  is  my  Love,  — 
Until  fresh  saihng  orders 

Are  sent  us  from  above. 

Then  to  the  deep  mid-ocean 

Though  we  reluctant  sail, 
We'll  find  our  Happy  Islands 

And  joys  that  cannot  fail. 

Louise  Chandler  Moulton. 


MY  SEAWARD   WINDOW.  135 


MY    SEAWARD    WINDOW. 

nr^HE  sweet  moon  rules  the  east  to-night, 

-*■       To  show  the  sun  she  too  can  shine,  — 
From  his  forsaken  cell  of  night 

She  builds  herself  a  jewelled  shrine. 

From  my  lone  window  look  I  forth 

Where  the  grim  headlands  point  to  sea, 

And  think  how  out  between  them  passed 
The  ship  that  bore  my  friend  from  me. 

A  track  of  silvery  splendor  leads 

To  where  my  straining  sight  was  stayed ; 

It  may  be  there  our  .two  souls  met, 
And  vows  of  earnest  import  made. 

But  then  the  autumn  noontide  glow 

O'er  the  still  sea  stretched  far  and  wide, 

While  kneeling,  watching  from  the  cliff, 
"  My  friend  is  dear  to  me  !  "  I  cried. 

My  little  children  dancing  cried, 

"  Why  do  you  kneel  and  gaze  so  far  ?  " 

"  I  kneel  to  bless  my  parting  friend. 
And  even  ye  forgotten  are." 

And  one  might  ask,  "  What  boots  this  song 

Sung  lonely  to  yon  wintry  skies  ? " 
It  leads  me  by  a  hoher  light 

Where  Memory's  solemn  comfort  lies. 

Julia  Ward  Howk. 


136  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


THE    SEA. 

Tj^OR  lo !  the  sea  that  fleets  about  the  land, 
-*■        And  hke  a  girdle  clips  her  sohd  waist, 
Music  and  measure  both  doth  understand  : 

For  his  great  crystal  eye  is  always  cast 
Up  to  the  moon,  and  on  her  fixed  fast ; 
And  as  she  danceth  in  her  pallid  sphere, 
So  danceth  he  about  the  centre  here. 

Sometimes  his  proud  green  waves,  in  order  set. 

One  after  other  flow  into  the  shore, 
Which,  when  they  have  with  many  kisses  wet, 

They  ebb  away  in  order  as  before. 
And  to  make  known  his  courtly  love  the  more, 
He  oft  doth  lay  aside  his  three-forkt  mace, 
And  with  his  arms  the  timorous  earth  embrace. 

John  Da  vies,  1596. 


BY   THE   SEA. 

TT  is  a  beauteous  evening,  calm  and  free  ; 
-■-     The  holy  time  is  quiet  as  a  nun 
Breathless  with  adoration  ;  the  broad  sun 
Is  sinking  down  in  its  tranquillity. 

The  gentleness  of  heaven  is  on  the  sea; 
Listen  !  the  mighty  being  is  awake. 
And  doth  with  his  eternal  motion  make 
A  sound  like  thunder  —  everlastingly. 


THE  MARINERS.  I37 

Dear  child  !  dear  girl  !  that  walk  est  with  me  here, 
If  thou  appear  untouched  by  solemn  thought, 
Thy  nature  is  not  therefore  less  divine  : 

Thou  liest  in  Abraham's  bosom  all  the  year, 
And  worship'st  at  the  Temple's  inner  shrine, 
God  being  with  thee  when  we  know  it  not. 

William  Wordsworth. 


THE   MARINERS. 

"O  AISE  we  the  yard  and  ply  the  oar, 
-^^     The  breeze  is  calling  us  swift  away ; 
The  waters  are  breaking  in  foam  on  the  shore ; 
Our  boat  no  more  can  stay,  can  stay. 

When  the  blast  flies  fast  in  the  clouds  on  high, 

And  billows  are  roaring  loud  below, 
The  boatman's  song,  in  the  stormy  sky. 

Still  dares  the  gale  to  blow,  to  blow. 

The  timber  that  frames  his  faithful  boat 

Was  dandled  in  storms  on  the  mountain  peaks. 

And  in  storms,  with  a  bounding  keel,  'twill  float, 
And  laugh  when  the  sea-fiend  shrieks,  and  shrieks. 

And  then,  in  the  calm  and  glistening  nights. 
We  have  tales  of  wonder,  and  joy,  and  fear. 

And  deeds  of  the  powerful  ocean  sprites, 
With  which  our  hearts  we  cheer,  we  cheer. 


138  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

For  often  the  dauntless  mariner  knows 
That  he  must  sink  to  the  land  beneath, 

Where  the  diamond  on  trees  of  coral  grows, 
In  the  emerald  halls  of  Death,  of  Death. 

Onward  we  sweep  through  smooth  and  storm  ; 

We  are  vo)'agers  all  in  shine  or  gloom  ; 
And  the  dreamer  who  skulks  by  his  chimney  warm 

Drifts  in  his  sleep  to  doom,  to  doom. 

John  Sterling. 


THE    SEA. 

npHE  sea  !  the  sea  !  the  open  sea  ! 
■^       The  blue,  the  fresh,  the  ever  free  ! 
Without  a  mark,  without  a  bound. 
It  runneth  the  earth's  wide  regions  round ; 
It  plays  with  the  clouds  ;  it  mocks  the  skies  ; 
Or  hke  a  cradled  creature  lies. 

I'm  on  the  sea  !  I'm  on  the  sea ! 

I  am  where  I  would  ever  be  ; 

With  the  blue  above,  and  the  blue  below. 

And  silence  wheresoe'er  I  go  ; 

If  a  storm  should  come  and  awake  the  deep, 

What  matter  ?  I  shall  ride  and  sleep. 

I  love,  oh  how  I  love  to  ride 
On  the  fierce,  foaming,  bursting  tide, 
When  every  mad  wave  drowns  the  moon, 
Or  whistles  aloft  his  tempest  tune. 


MOONLIGHT  AT  SEA.  1 39 

And  tells  how  goeth  the  world  below, 
And  why  the  sou'west  blasts  do  blow. 

I  never  was  on  the  dull,  tame  shore, 
But  I  loved  the  great  sea  more  and  more, 
And  backward  flew  to  her  billowy  breast, 
Like  a  bird  that  seeketh  its  mother's  nest ; 
And  a  mother  she  was,  and  is,  to  me  ; 
For  I  was  born  on  the  open  sea  ! 

The  waves  were  white,  and  red  the  morn, 
In  the  noisy  hour  when  I  was  born  ; 
And  the  whale  it  whistled,  the  porpoise  rolled, 
And  the  dolphins  bared  their  backs  of  gold  ; 
And  never  was  heard  such  an  outcry  wild 
As  welcomed  to  life  the  ocean-child  ! 

I've  hved  since  then,  in  calm  and  strife, 
Full  fifty  summers,  a  sailors  Hfe, 
With  wealth  to  spend,  and  power  to  range. 
But  never  have  sought  nor  sighed  for  change ; 
And  Death,  whenever  he  comes  to  me, 
Shall  come  on  the  wild,  unbounded  sea  ! 

Barry  Cornwall. 


MOONLIGHT    AT    SEA. 

IT  is  the  midnight  hour  :  the  beauteous  sea, 
"'-    Calm  as  the  cloudless  heaven,  the  heaven  discloses  ; 
While  many  a  sparkling  star,  in  quiet  glee. 
Far  down  within  the  watery  sky  reposes. 


I40  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

As  if  the  ocean's  heart  were  stirred 

With  inward  Hfe,  a  sound  is  heard, 

Like  that  of  dreamer  murmuring  in  his  sleep  ; 

'Tis  partly  the  billow,  and  partly  the  air, 

That  lies  like  a  garment  floating  fair 

Above  the  happy  deep. 
The  sea,  I  ween,  cannot  be  fanned 
By  evening  freshness  from  the  land, 

For  the  land  is  far  away ; 
But  God  hath  willed  that  the  sky-borne  breeze 
In  the  centre  of  the  lonehest  seas 

Should  ever  sport  and  play. 
The  mighty  moon  she  sits  above, 
Encircled  with  a  zone  of  love, 
A  zone  of  dim  and  tender  light, 
That  makes  her  wakeful  eye  more  bright : 
She  seems  to  shine  with  a  sunny  ray. 
And  the  hght  looks  like  a  mellowed  day  ! 
The  gracious  mistress  of  the  main 
Hath  now  an  undisturbed  reign  ! 
And  from  her  silent  throne  looks  down, 
As  upon  children  of  her  own, 
On  the  waves  that  lend  their  gentle  breast 
In  gladness  for  her  couch  of  rest ! 

John  Wilson. 


CALM    AT    SEA. 


T' 


'HE  night  is  clear, 
The  sky  is  fair. 
The  wave  is  resting  on  the  ocean 


CALM  AT  SEA.  14^ 

And  far  and  near 
The  silent  air 
Just  lifts  the  flag  with  faintest  motion. 

There  is  no  gale 

To  fill  the  sail, 
No  wind  to  heave  the  curling  billow  ; 

The  streamers  droop 

And  trembhng  stoop, 
Like  boughs,  that  crown  the  weeping  willow. 

From  off  the  shore 

Is  heard  the  roar 
Of  waves  in  softest  motion  rolhng  ; 

The  twinkling  stars 

And  whispering  airs 
Are  all  to  peace  the  heart  controlling. 

The  moon  is  bright, 

Her  ring  of  hght, 
In  silver,  pales  the  blue  of  heaven, 

Or  tints  with  gold. 

Where  lightly  rolled. 
Like  fleecy  snow,  the  rack  is  driven. 

How  calm  and  clear 

The  silent  air  ! 
How  smooth  and  still  the  glassy  ocean  ! 

While  stars  above 

Seem  lamps  of  love. 
To  light  the  temple  of  devotion. 

J.  G.  Percival. 


142  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


FROM    "THE   BUCCANEER." 


T 


^HE  island  lies  nine  leagues  away. 
Along  its  solitary  shore, 
Of  craggy  rock  and  sandy  bay, 
No  sound  but  ocean's  roar, 
Save,  where  the  bold,  wild  sea-bird  makes  her  home, 
Her  shrill  cry  coming  through  the  sparkling  foam. 

But  when  the  light  winds  lie  at  rest, 

And  on  the  glassy,  heaving  sea. 
The  black  duck,  with  her  glossy  breast. 
Sits  swinging  silently ; 
How  beautiful  !  no  ripples  break  the  reach, 
And  silvery  waves  go  noiseless  up  the  beach. 

And  inland  rests  the  green,  warm  dell ; 

The  brook  comes  tinkhng  down  its  side  ; 
From  out  the  trees  the  Sabbath  bell 
Rings  cheerful  far  and  wide. 
Mingling  its  sound  with  bleatings  of  the  flocks, 
That  feed  about  the  vale  among  the  rocks. 

Richard  H.  Dana 


/^H,  I  love  to  be  out  by  the  waters  at  night, 

^-^     As   they  trip   to   the  sea  on  the  bright-tinted 

sands  ! 
And  deem  their  glad  billows  are  children  of  light. 
With  songs  on  their  lips  and  the  stars  in  their  hands. 

Alice  Cary, 


OUT  TO  SEA.  143 


THE  SKY  IS  THICK  UPON  THE  SEA. 

'np HE  sky  is  thick  upon  the  sea, 

-*■       The  sea  is  sown  with  rain, 
And  in  the  passing  gusts  we  hear 
The  clanging  of  the  crane. 

The  cranes  are  flying  to  the  south  ; 

We  cut  the  northern  foam  : 
The  dreary  land  they  leave  behind 

Must  be  our  future  home. 

Its  barren  shores  are  long  and  dark. 

And  gray  its  autumn  sky ; 
But  better  these  than  this  gray  sea, 

If  but  to  land  —  and  die  ! 

R.  H.  Stoddard, 


OUT    TO    SEA. 

'TpHE  wind  is  blowing  east, 

-■-       And  the  waves  are  running  free 
Let's  hoist  the  sail  at  once. 
And  stand  out  to  sea, 

(You  and  me  ! ) 
I  am  growing  more  and  more 
A- weary  of  the  shore  ; 
It  was  never  so  before, — 
Out  to  sea ! 


144  SEA   AND  S//OA'£. 

The  wind  is  blowing  east, 

How  it  swells  the  straining  sail ! 
A  little  farther  out 

We  shall  have  a  jolly  gale  ! 

(Cling  to  me  !) 
The  waves  are  running  high, 
And  the  gulls,  how  they  fly  ! 
We  shall  only  see  the  sky 
Out  to  sea. 

The  wind  is  blowing  east 

From  the  dark  and  bloody  shore. 
Where  flash  a  million  swords, 
And  the  dreadful  cannon  roar  ! 

(Woe  is  me  !) 
There's  a  curse  upon  the  land  ! 
(Is  that  blood  upon  my  hand  ?) 
What  ca/i  we  do  but  stand 
Out  to  sea  ? 


R.  H.   Stoddard. 


NOONDAY   BY   THE    SEASIDE. 

^  I  ^HE  sea  has  left  the  strand ; 
-*-       In  their  deep  sapphire  cup 
The  waves  lie  gathered  up, 
Oft'  the  hard-ribbed  sand. 

From  each  dark  rocky  brim, 
The  full  wine  tinted  billows  ebbed  away 

Leave  on  the  golden  rim 
Of  their  huge  bowl  not  one  thin  line  of  spray. 


NOONDAY  BY  THE  SEASIDE.  145 

Above  the  short-grassed  downs  all  broidered  over 
With  scarlet  pimpernel  and  silver  clover, 
Like  spicy  incense  quivers  the  warm  air  ; 

With  piercing  fervid  heat 

The  noonday  sunbeams  beat 
On  the  red  granite  sea-slabs,  broad  and  bare. 

And  prone  along  the  shore. 
Basking  in  the  fierce  glare, 

Lie  sun-bronzed  Titans,  covered  o'er 
With  shaggy,  sea-weed  hair. 

Come  in,  under  this  vault  of  brownest  shade, 

By  sea-worn  arches  made, 
Where  all  the  air,  with  a  rich  topaz  light, 

Is  darkly  bright. 
'Neath  these  rock-folded  canopies, 

Shadowy  and  cool. 
The  crystal  water  lies 

In  many  a  glassy  pool. 
Whose  green-veined  sides,  as  they  receive  the  light, 
Gleam  like  pale  wells  of  precious  malachite. 

In  the  warm  shallow  water  dip  thy  feet, 
Gleaming  like  rose-hued  pearls  below  the  wave. 
And  lying  in  this  hollow,  sea-smoothed  seat, 
Gaze  on  the  far-off  white-sailed  fisher  fleet, 
•Framed  in  the  twilight  portal  of  our  cave  ; 

While  I  lie  here,  and  gaze  on  thee. 

Fairer  art  thou  to  me 
Than  Aphrodite,  when  the  breathless  deep 
Wafted  her,  smiling  in  her  rosy  sleep, 


146  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Towards  the  green-myrtled  shore,  that  in  delight, 
With  starry  fragrance,  suddenly  grew  white ; 

Or  than  the  shuddering  girl, 

Whose  wide  distended  eyes, 

Glassy,  with  dread  surprise, 

Saw  the  huge  billow  curl. 
Foaming  and  bristling  with  its  grisly  freight ; 

While,  twinkhng  from  afar, 
With  iris-feathered  heels,  and  falchion  bright, 
From  the  blue  copse  of  heaven's  dazzling  height, 
Her  lover  swooped,  a  flashing  noon-tide  star. 

A  mid-day  dream  hath  lighted  on  thy  brow, 

And  gently  bends  it  down  ;  thy  fair  eyes  swim. 

In  liquid  languor,  lustreless  and  dim; 

And  slowly  dropping  now, 

From  the  light  loosened  clasp  of  thy  warm  hand, 

Making  a  ruddy  shadow  on  the  sand, 

Falls  a  wine-perfumed  rose,  with  crimson  glow. 

Sleep,  my  beloved  !  while  the  sultry  spell 
Of  silent  noon  o'er  sea  and  earth  doth  dwell  ; 
Stoop  thy  fair  graceful  head  upon  my  breast, 
With  its  thick  rolls  of  golden  hair  opprest 
My  lily  !  —  and  my  breathing  shall  not  sob 
With  one  tumultuous  sigh,  nor  my  heart  throb 
With  one  irregular  bound,  that  I  may  keep, 
With  tenderest  watch,  the  treasure  of  thy  sleep. 
Droop  gently  down,  in  slumb'rous,  slow  eclipse. 
Fair  fringed  Hds  !  beneath  my  sealing  lips. 

'Frances  Anne  Kemble. 


SEA-TANGLE.  147 


SEA-TANGLE. 

"  f~^  O  show  to  earth  your  power ! "   the    East 

^^  Wind  cried 

Commanding  ;  and  the  swift,  submissive  seas, 
In  ordered  files,  hke  hquid  mountains,  ghde, 

Moving  from  sky  to  sky  with  godhke  ease. 

Its  march  subhme  was  as  a  hfting  world 

Subsiding  into  glassy  valleys  vast : 
No  crest  of  foam  upon  its  brow  was  curled ; 

But  silent,  dark,  and  terrible,  it  passed. 

Below  a  chfF,  where  mused  a  little  maid, 

It    struck.      Its  voice   in  thunder  cried,   "Be- 
ware !  " 

But,  to  delight  her,  instantly  displayed 
A  fount  of  showering  diamonds  in  the  air. 

"  Go,  cruel  thing  !  "  she  said,  "unloved  by  me  ; 

Go,  tear  the  sailor  from  his  happy  sleep  ; 
Drown  navies  in  thy  heartless  perfidy  ; 

But  spare   our  flowers,   thou   monster  of  the 
deep  !  " 

As  in  obedience,  the  wave  passed  on. 

Touching  each  shore  with  silver-sandalled  feet, 

But  tossed,  in  flying,  in  the  sun  which  shone, 
A  handful  to  her  lap  of  sea-blooms  sweet. 


148  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

More  delicate  than  forms  the  frost  doth  weave 
On  window-panes,  are  Ocean's  filmy  brood  ; 

Remembering  the  awful  home  they  leave, 

Their  hues  to  that  dim  under-world  subdued. 

Fair  spread  on  pages  white,  I  saw  arrayed 
These  fairy-children  of  a  sire  so  stern  : 

Their  beauty  charmed  me  ;  while  the  little  maid 
Spoke  of  her  new-found  love  with  cheeks  which 
burn,  — 

"  So  grand,  so  terrible,  how  could  I  know 

He  cared  for  these  ?  "  she  faltered,  —  "  darlings 
dear  ! 

That  his  great  heart  could  nurture  them,  and  glow 
With  such  a  love  beneath  such  look  severe  ?  " 

Like  God,  the  Ocean,  too,  the  least  can  heed, 
Yearn  in  a  moon-led  quest  to  farthest  shores, 

And  fondle  in  delight  its  smallest  weed, 
Yet  look  to  Him  it  mirrors  and  adores. 

T.    G.   Appleton. 


THE    SHORE. 

CAN  it  be  women  that  walk  in  the  sea-mist  under  the 
cliffs  there  ? 
Where,  'neath  a  briny  bow,  creaming  advances  the  lip 
Of  the  foam,  and  out  from  the  sand-choked  anchors  on 

to  the  skiffs  there 
The  long  ropes  swing  through  the  surge  as  it  tumbles, 
and  glitter  and  drip. 


THE  SHORE.  149 

All  the  place,  in  a  lurid  glimmering  emerald  glory, 
Glares  like  a  Titan  world  come  back  under  heaven 

again  ; 
Yonder,   up   there,   are   the   steeps   of   the   sea-kings 

famous  in  story, 
But  who  are  they  on  the  beach  ?     They  are  neither 
,  women  nor  men. 

Who  knows.      Are   they  the  land's   or  the  water's 

living  creatures  ? 
Born    of   the  boiling  sea  ?    nursed   in  the  seething 

'  storms  ? 
With  their  woman's  hair  dishevelled  over  their  stern 

male  features, 
Striding  bare  to  the  knee,  magnified  maritime  forms  ! 

They  may  be  the  mothers  and  wives,  they  may  be  the 
sisters  and  daughters. 

Of  men  in  the  dark  mid-seas,  alone  in  those  black- 
coil'd  hulls, 

That  toil  'neath  yon  white  cloud,  whence  the  moon  will 
rise  o'er  the  waters 

To-night  with  her  face  on  fire,  if  the  wind  in  the  even- 
ing lulls. 

But  they  may  be  merely  visions,  such  as  only  sick  men 
witness 

(Sitting,  as  I  sit  here,  filled  with  a  wild  regret), 

Framed  from  the  sea's  misshapen  spume  with  a  horri- 
ble fitness 

To  the  winds  in  which  they  walk,  and  the  surges  by 
which  they  are  wet. 


150  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Salamanders,  sea-wolves,  witches,  warlocks,  marine- 
monsters, 

Which  the  dying  seaman  beholds  when  the  rats  are 
swimming  away. 

And  an  Indian  wind  'gins  hiss  from  an  unknown  isle, 
and  alone  stirs 

The  broken  cloud  which  burns  on  the  verge  of  the  dead 
red  day. 

I  know  not.  All  my  mind  is  confused,  nor  can  I  dis- 
sever 

The  mould  of  the  visible  world  from  the  shape  of  my 
thoughts  in  me. 

The  Inward  and  Outward  are  fused,  and  through  them 
murmur  for  ever 

The  sorrow  whose  sound  is  the  wind,  and  the  roar  of 
the  limitless  sea. 

Owen  Meredith. 


ON   THE   CLIFF. 


T  LEANED  on  the  turf, 

-*-     I  looked  at  a  rock 

Left  dry  by  the  surf ; 

For  the  turf,  to  call  it  grass  were  to  mock 

Dead  to  the  roots,  so  deep  was  done 

The  work  of  the  summer  sun. 


ON  THE   CLIFF.  15 1 

II. 

And  the  rock  lay  flat 

As  an  anviPs  face  : 

No  iron  like  that ! 

Baked  dry  :  of  a  weed,  of  a  shell,  no  trace  ; 

Sunshine  outside,  but  ice  at  the  core, 

Death's  altar  by  the  lone  shore. 

III. 
On  the  turf,  sprang  gay 
With  his  films  of  blue, 
No  cricket,  I'll  say, 

But  a  war-horse,  barded  and  chanfroned  too, 
The  gift  of  a  quixote-mage  to  his  knight, 
Real  fairy,  with  wings  all  right. 

IV. 

On  the  rock,  they  scorch 

Like  a  drop  of  fire 

From  a  brandished  torch, 

Fell  two  red  fans  of  a  butterfly : 

No  turf,  no  rock,  —  in  their  ugly  stead. 

See,  wonderful  blue  and  red  ! 

V. 

Is  it  not  so 

With  the  minds  of  men  ? 

The  level  and  low, 

The  burnt  and  bare,  in  themselves  ;  but  then 

With  such  a  blue  and  red  grace,  not  theirs, 

Love  settling  unawares  ! 

Robert  Browning. 


152  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


THE    SEA-LIMITS. 

/^^ONSIDER  the  sea's  listless  chime  : 

^-^     Time's  self  it  is  made  audible,  — 
The  murmur  of  the  earth's  own  shell. 

Secret  continuance  subhme 

Is  the  sea's  end.     Our  sight  may  pass 
No  furlong  further.     Since  time  was, 

This  sound  hath  told  the  lapse  of  time. 

No  quiet  which  is  death's,  —  it  hath 

The  mournfulness  of  ancient  life. 

Enduring  always  at  dull  strife. 
As  the  world's  heart  of  rest  and  wrath, 

Its  painful  pulse  is  in  the  sands. 

Lost  utterly,  the  whole  sky  stands 
Gray  and  not  known  along  its  path. 

Listen  alone  beside  the  sea. 

Listen  alone  among  the  woods  ; 

Those  voices  of  twin  solitudes 
Shall  have  one  sound  alike  to  thee. 

Hark  where  the  murmurs  of  thronged  men 

Surge  and  sink  back  and  surge  again, — 
Still  the  one  voice  of  wave  and  tree. 

Gather  a  shell  from  the  strewn  beach, 
And  hsten  at  its  lips  :  they  sigh 
The  same  desire  and  mystery. 


CHILD'S  SONG  IN  WINTER.  153 

The  echo  of  the  whole  sea's  speech. 
And  all  mankind  is  thus  at  heart 
Not  any  thing  but  what  thou  art ; 

And  Earth,  Sea,  Man,  are  all  in  each. 

Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti. 


CHILD'S    SONG    IN    WINTER. 

OUTSIDE  the  garden 
The  wet  skies  harden  ; 
The  gates  are  barred  on 

The  summer  side  ; 
Shut  out  the  flower  time, 
Sunbeam  and  shower  time  ; 
Make  way  for  our  time, 

The  winter  tide. 
Green  once  and  cheery, 
The  woods  worn  weary. 
Sigh  as  the  dreary, 

Weak  sun  goes  home  ; 
A  great  wind  grapples 
The  wave,  and  dapples 
The  dead  green  floor  of  the  sea  with  foam. 


Through  fell  and  moorland. 


And  salt  sea  foreland. 
Our  noisy  norland 

Resounds  and  rings  ; 


154  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Waste  waves  thereunder 
Are  blown  in  sunder, 
And  winds  make  thunder 

With  cloud-wide  wings. 
Sea  drift  makes  dimmer 
The  beacon's  glimmer ; 
Nor  sail  nor  swimmer 

Can  try  the  tides  ; 
And  snow-drifts  thicken 
Where,  when  leaves  quicken, 
Under  the  heather  the  sundew  hides. 

In  fierce  March  weather 
White  waves  break  tether, 
And  whirled  together 

At  either  hand, 
Like  weeds  uplifted, 
The  tree  trunks  rifted 
In  spars  are  drifted. 

Like  foam  or  sand, 
Past  swamp  and  sallow, 
And  reed-beds  callow, 
Through  pool  and  shallow, 

To  wind  and  lee. 
Till,  no  more  tongue-tied, 
Full  flood  and  young  tide 
Roar  down  the  rapids  and  storm  the  sea. 

As  men's  cheeks  faded 
On  shores  invaded. 
When  shorewards  waded 
The  lords  of  fight ; 


CHILD'S  SONG  IN  WINTER.  155 

When  churl  and  craven 
Saw  hard  on  haven 
The  wide- winged  raven 

At  main-mast  height ; 
When  monks  affrighted 
To  windward  sighted 
The  birds  full  flighted 

Of  swift  sea-kings  ; 
So  earth  turns  paler 
When  Storm,  the  sailor, 
Steers  in  with  a  roar  in  the  race  of  his  wings. 

O  strong  sea  sailor, 
Whose  cheek  turns  paler 
For  wind  or  hail,  or 

For  fear  of  thee  ? 
O  far  sea-far er, 
O  thunder-bearer, 
Thy  songs  are  rarer 

Than  soft  songs  be. 
O  fleet-foot  stranger, 
O  North-Sea  ranger, 
Through  days  of  danger 

And  ways  of  fear, 
Blow  thy  horn  here  for  us, 
Blow  the  sky  clear  for  us, 
Send  us  the  song  of  the  sea  to  hear. 

Roll  the  strong  stream  of  it 
Up,  till  the  scream  of  it 
Wake  from  a  dream  of  it 


156  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Children  that  sleep  ; 
Seamen  that  fare  for  them 
Forth,  with  a  prayer  for  them  ; 
Shall  not  God  care  for  them  ? 

Angels  not  keep  ? 
Spare  not  the  surges 
Thy  stormy  scourges  ; 
Spare  us  the  dirges 

Of  wives  that  weep. 
Turn  back  the  waves  for  us  : 
Dig  no  fresh  graves  for  us  : 
Wind,  in  the  manifold  gulfs  of  the  deep. 

O  stout  north-easter. 
Sea-king,  land- waster, 
For  all  thine  haste,  or 

Thy  stormy  skill, 
Yet  hadst  thou  never, 
For  all  endeavor. 
Strength  to  dissever 

Or  strength  to  spill, 
Save  of  His  giving 
Who  gave  our  Hving, 
Whose  hands  are  weaving 

What  ours  fulfil ; 
Whose  feet  tread  under 
The  storms  and  thunder  ; 
Who  made  our  wonder  to  work  His  will. 

His  years  and  hours. 
His  world's  bhnd  powers, 
His  stars  and  flowers, 


SITTING   ON  THE  SHORE.  157 

His  nights  and  days, 
Sea-tide  and  river, 
And  waves  that  shiver, 
Praise  God,  the  giver 

Of  tongues  to  praise. 
Winds  in  their  blowing, 
And  fruits  in  growing, 
Time  in  its  going, 

While  time  shall  be  ; 
In  death  and  living, 
With  one  thanksgiving, 
Praise  Him  whose  hand  is  the  strength  of  the  sea. 

Algernon  C.  Swinburne. 


SITTING   ON   THE    SHORE. 

"  I  ^HE  tide  has  ebb'd  away; 
■*-     No  more  wild  dashings  'gainst  the  adamant  rocks. 
Nor  swayings  amidst  sea-weed  false  that  mocks 

The  hues  of  gardens  gay  ; 

No  laugh  of  Httle  wavelets  at  their  play : 
No  lucid  pools  reflecting  heaven's  clear  brow,  — 
Both  storm  and  calm  alike  are  ended  now. 

The  rocks  sit  gray  and  lone  : 
The  shifting  sand  is  spread  so  smooth  and  dry, 
That  not  a  tide  might  ever  have  swept  by, 

Stirring  it  with  rude  moan  : 

Only  some  weedy  fragments,  idly  thrown 
To  rot  beneath  the  sky,  tell  what  has  been  ; 
But  Desolation's  self  has  grown  serene. 


58  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Afar  the  mountains  rise, 
And  the  broad  estuary  widens  out, 
All  sunshine  ;  wheeling  round  and  round  about 

Seaward,  a  white  bird  flies. 

A  bird  ?     Nay,  seems  it  rather  in  these  eyes 
A  spirit,  o'er  Eternity's  dim  sea 
Calling,  —  "  Come  thou  where  all  we  glad  souls  be." 

O  life,  O  silent  shore. 
Where  we  sit  patient ;  O  great  sea  beyond, 
To  which  we  turn  with  solemn  hope  and  fond, 

But  sorrowful  no  more  ! 

A  little  while,  and  then  we  too  shall  soar 
Like  white-wing'd  sea-birds  into  the  Infinite  Deep  : 
Till  then,  Thou,  Father,  wilt  our  spirits  keep. 

Dinah  Maria  Muloch. 


AT   SEA. 

TT  7E  part  as  ships  on  a  pathless  main, 
'  *       Gayly  enough,  for  the  sense  of  pain 

Is  asleep  at  first ;  but  ghosts  will  arise 

When  we  would  repose,  and  the  forms  will  come 
And  walk  when  we  walk,  and  will  not  be  dumb, 

Nor  yet  forget  with  their  wakeful  eyes. 

When  we  most  need  rest,  and  the  perfect  sleep. 
Some  hand  will  reach  from  the  dark,  and  keep 


THE  MOBILE  SEA.  159 

The  curtains  drawn  and  the  pillows  toss'd 
Like  a  tide  of  foam  ;  and  one  will  say 
At  night,  —  O  Heaven,  that  it  were  day  ! 
And  one  by  night  through  the  misty  tears 
Will  say,  —  O  Heaven,  the  days  are  years. 

And  I  would  to  Heaven  that  the  waves  were  cross'd. 

Joaquin  Miller. 


I    STAND    BESIDE    THE    MOBILE   SEA. 

T  STAND  beside  the  mobile  sea  ; 

-*•     And  sails  are  spread,  and  sails  are  furl'd 

From  farthest  corners  of  the  world. 

And  fold  like  white  wings  wearily. 

Steamships  go  up,  and  some  go  down 

In  haste,  like  traders  in  a  town. 

And  seem  to  see  and  beckon  all. 

Afar  at  sea  some  white  shapes  flee, 

With  arms  stretch'd  Hke  a  ghost's  to  me, 

And  cloud-like  sails  far  blown  and  curM 

Then  glide  down  to  the  under-world. 

As  if  blown  bare  in  winter  blasts 

Of  leaf  and  limb,  tall  naked  masts 

Are  rising  from  the  restless  sea, 

So  still  and  desolate  and  tall, 

I  seem  to  see  them  gleam  and  shine 

With  clinging  drops  of  dripping  brine. 

Broad  still  brown  wings  flit  here  and  there, 

Thin  sea-blue  wings  wheel  everywhere. 

And  white  wings  whistle  through  the  air : 

I  hear  a  thousand  sea-gulls  call. 


i6o  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Behold  the  ocean  on  the  beach 
Kneel  lowly  down  as  if  in  prayer. 
I  hear  a  moan  as  of  despair, 
While  far  at  sea  do  toss  and  reach 
Some  things  so  like  white  pleading  hands. 
The  ocean's  thin  and  hoary  hair 
Is  traiPd  along  the  silver'd  sands 
At  every  sigh  and  sounding  moan. 
'Tis  not  a  place  for  mirthfulness, 
But  meditation  deep,  and  prayer, 
And  kneelings  on  the  salted  sod, 
Where  man  must  own  his  httleness 


And  know^  the  mightiness  of  God. 


Joaquin  Miller. 


SURF. 

O  PLENDORS  of  morning  the  billow-crests  brighten, 
^^     Lighting  and  luring  them  on  to  the  land,  — 
Far  away  waves  where  the  wan  vessels  whiten, 

Blue  rollers  breaking  in  surf  where  we  stand. 
Curved  like  the  necks  of  a  legion  of  horses, 

Each  with  his  froth-gilded  mane  flowing  free, 
Hither  they  speed  in  perpetual  courses. 

Bearing  thy  riches,  O  beautiful  sea ! 

Strong  with  the  striving  of  yesterday's  surges, 

Lashed  by  the  wanton  winds  leagues  from  the  shore, 

Each,  driven  fast  by  its  follower,  urges 
Fearlessly  those  that  are  fleeting  before  ; 


A    THANKSGIVING.  i6l 

How  they  leap  over  the  ridges  we  walk  on, 
Flinging  us  gifts  from  the  depths  of  the  sea, — 

Silvery  fish  for  the  foam-haunting  falcon, 
Palm-weed  and  pearls  for  my  darling  and  me  ! 

Light  falls  her  foot  where  the  rift  follows  after, 

Finer  her  hair  than  your  feathery  spray, 
Sweeter  her  voice  than  your  infinite  laughter,  — 

Hist !  ye  wild  couriers,  list  to  my'lay  ! 
Deep  in  the  chambers  of  grottos  auroral 

Morn  laves  her  jewels  and  bends  her  red  knee  : 
Thence  to  my  dear  one  your  amber  and  coral 

Bring  for  her  dowry,  O  beautiful  sea  ! 

Edmund  Clarence  Stedman. 


A  THANKSGIVING. 

TTIGH  on  the  ledge  the  wind  blows  the  bay-berry 

■n.         bright. 

Turning  the  leaves  till  they  shudder  and  shine  in  the 

light: 
Yellow  St.  John's -wort  and  yarrow  are  nodding  their 

heads. 
Iris  and  wild-rose  are  glowing  in  purples  and  reds. 

Swift  flies   the   schooner   careering  beyond   o'er  the 

blue ; 
Faint  shows   the  furrow  she  leaves  as   she   cleaves 

lightly  through ; 
Gay  gleams  the  fluttering  flag  at  her  dehcate  mast, 
Full  swell  the  sails  with  the  wind  that  is  following 

fast. 


1 62  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Quail   and  sand-piper,  and  swallow  and  sparrow,  are 

here  ; 
Sweet  sound  their  manifold  notes,  high   and  low,  far 

and  near ; 
Chorus  of  musical  waters,  the  rush  of  the  breeze. 
Steady  and  strong  from  the  South,  —  what  glad  voices 

are  these ! 

O  cup  of  the  wild-rose,  curved  close  to  hold  odorous 

dew. 
What  thought  do  you  hide  in  your  heart  ?     I  would 

that  I  knew  ! 
O  beautiful  Iris,  unfurling  your  purple  and  gold. 
What  victory  fling  you  abroad  in  the  flags  you  unfold  ! 

Sweet  may  your  thought  be,  red  rose  ;  but  still  sweeter 

is  mine, 
Close  in  my  heart   hidden,    clear   as   your  dewdrop 

divine. 
Flutter  your  gonfalons.  Iris,  — the  psean  I  sing 
Is  for  victory  better  than  joy  or  than  beauty  can  bring. 

Into  thy  calm  eyes,  O  Nature,  I  look  and  rejoice  ; 
Prayerful,  I  add -my  one  note  to  the  Infinite  voice  : 
As  shining  and  singing  and  sparkling  glides  on  the 

glad  day, 
And  eastward  the  swift-rolling  planet  wheels  into  the 

gray. 

Celia  Thaxter. 


DOWN  ON  THE  SHORE.  163 


DOWN  ON  THE   SHORE. 

■pvOWN  on  the  shore,  on  the  sunny  shore  ! 
^^     Where  the  salt  smell  cheers  the  land; 
Where  the  tide  moves  bright  under  boundless  light, 

And  the  surge  on  the  glittering  strand  ; 
Where  the  children  wade  in  the  shallow  pools, 

Or  run  from  the  froth  in  play ; 
Where  the  swift  little  boats  with  milk-white  wings 

Are  crossing  the  sapphire  bay, 
And  the  ship  in  full  sail,  with  a  fortunate  gale, 

Holds  proudly  on  her  way. 
Where  the  nets  are  spread  on  the  grass  to  dry, 
And  asleep,  hard  by,  the  fishermen  lie, 
Under  the  tent  of  the  warm  blue  sky. 

With  the  hushing  wave  on  its  golden  floor 
To  sing  their  lullaby. 

Down  on  the  shore,  on  the  stormy  shore  ! 

Beset  by  a  growling  sea, 
Whose  mad  waves  leap  on  the  rocky  steep, 

Like  wolves  up  a  traveller's  tree. 
Where  the  foam  flies  wide,  and  an  angry  blast 

Blows  the  curlew  off"  with  a  screech  ; 
Where  the  brown  sea-wrack,  torn  up  by  the  roots. 

Is  flung  out  of  fishes'  reach  ; 
Where  the  tall  ship  rolls  on  the  hidden  shoals, 

And  scatters  her  planks  on  the  beach. 


164  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Where  slate  and  straw  through  the  village  spin, 
And  a  cottage  fronts  the  fiercest  din, 
With  a  sailor's  wife  sitting  sad  within, 
Hearkening  the  wind  and  water's  roar. 
Till  at  last  her  tears  begin. 

William  Allingham, 


BY   THE    MORNING   SEA. 

'T^HE  wind  shakes  up  the  sleepy  clouds 
-^      To  kiss  the  ruddied  morn. 
And  from  their  awful  misty  shrouds 

The  mountains  are  new-born  : 
The  sea  lies  fresh  with  open  eyes  ; 

Night-fears  and  moaning  dreams, 
Brooding  like  clouds  on  nether  skies, 

Have  sunk  below,  and  beams 
Dance  on  the  floor  like  golden  flies, 

Or  strike  with  joyful  gleams 
Some  white-winged  ship,  a  wandering  star 
Of  ocean,  piloting  afar. 

In  brakes,  in  woods,  in  cottage-eaves. 

The  early  birds  are  rife. 
Quick  voices  thrill  the  sprinkled  leaves 

In  ecstasy  of  hfe  ; 
With  silent  gratitude  of  flowers 

The  morning's  breath  is  sweet. 
And  cool  with  dew,  that  freshly  showers 

Round  wild  things'  hasty  feet. 


WAITING  BY  THE  SEA.  165 

But  the  heavenly  guests  of  tranquil  hours 

To  inner  skies  retreat, 
From  human  thoughts  of  lower  birth 
That  stir  upon  the  waking  earth. 

Across  a  thousand  leagues  of  land 

The  mighty  sun  looks  free, 
And  in  their  fringe  of  rock  or  sand 

A  thousand  leagues  of  sea. 
Lo  !  I,  in  this  majestic  room, 

As  real  as  the  sun, 
Inherit  this  day  and  its  doom 

Eternally  begun. 
A  world  of  men  the  rays  illume, 

God''s  men,  and  I  am  one. 
But  Hfe  that  is  not  pure  and  bold 
Doth  tarnish  every  morning's  gold. 

William  Allingham. 


WAITING   BY   THE   SEA. 


A  LONE  upon  the  windy  hills 
■^  ^     I  stand  and  face  the  open  sea. 


And  drink  the  southern  breeze  that  fills 
The  sails  that  bring  my  love  to  me. 

Far  out  the  shores  and  woodlands  reach, 
Till  lost  in  mists  of  pearly  gray. 

Or  crossed  by  lines  of  yellow  beach 
And  flashing  breakers  far  away. 


l66  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Alone  upon  the  windy  slopes, 
I  watch  the  long,  blue,  level  wall 

Of  ocean,  where  my  winged  hopes, 
Like  fluttering  sea-birds,  fly  and  call. 

O  happy  pilot-boats  that  dance 
Across  the  sparkling  miles  of  sea, 

O  greet  her,  should  ye  meet  by  chance 
The  ship  that  bears  my  love  to  me  ! 

And  does  she  lean  upon  the  deck. 
And  strain  her  eyes  till  land  appears, 

As  I  to  catch  the  white-winged  speck 
That  clears  away  my  gathering  fears  ? 

By  long,  low  beach  and  wooded  crag 
The  crowded  sails  go  glimmering  past ; 

But  none  that  bear  the  well-known  flag 
And  pennon  streaming  from  the  mast. 


0  ocean,  wrinkling  in  the  sun  ! 

O  breeze,  that  blowest  from  the  sea ! 
Waft  into  port,  ere  day  is  done. 
My  love,  my  life,  again  to  me  ! 

She  comes,  she  comes  !  I  see  the  sails, 
Like  rounded  sea-shells  full  and  white  ; 

1  hear  the  booming  gun  that  hails 
The  coming  of  my  heart's  delight. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  THE  SEA.  167 

I  hear  the  sailors'  distant  song, 
They  crowd  the  deck  in  bustling  glee ; 

And  there  is  one  amid  the  throng 
Who  waves  a  rosy  scarf  to  me. 

The  sun  has  set,  the  air  is  still, 
The  twilight  reddens  o'er  the  sea, 

The  full  moon  rises  o'er  the  hill, 
But  joy  like  sunrise  shines  for  me. 

C.  P.  Cranch. 


THE    MUSIC   OF   THE   SEA. 

From  "  The  Golden  Legend." 


T 


HE  night  is  calm  and  cloudless, 
And  still  as  still  can  be, 
And  the  stars  come  forth  to  listen 

To  the  music  of  the  sea. 
They  gather,  and  gather,  and  gather, 

Until  they  crowd  the  sky. 
And  listen,  in  breathless  silence. 

To  the  solemn  litany. 
It  begins  in  rocky  caverns, 

As  a  voice  that  chants  alone 
To  the  pedals  of  the  organ 

In  monotonous  undertone ; 
And  anon  from  shelving  beaches. 

And  shallow  sands  beyond. 
In  snow-white  robes  uprising, 

The  ghostly  choirs  respond. 


1 68  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

And  sadly  and  unceasing 

The  mournful  voice  sings  on, 
And  the  snow-white  choirs  still  answer, 

Christe  eleison  ! 

Henry  W.  Longfellow. 


OUT   AT   SEA. 

"TC^AR  on  the  deep  mid-ocean  tossed, 

•*-        Leagues  away  from  the  friendly  shore, 

In  the  watery  wilderness  lost, 

Driven  and  deafened  by  rush  and  roar. 
Baffled  by  wind  and  wave  are  we  ;  — 
What  sweet  home-spirits  may  there  be, 
Sadly  pondering  on  our  wandering 
Wide  and  wearisome,  out  at  sea  ! 

Lying  here  in  my  tossing  bed, 

I  dream  of  ruin,  and  rock,  and  wreck,  — 
Hearing  the  slow,  continuous  tread 

Of  the  sailor  who  walks  the  deck. 
Keeping  his  long  watch  patiently  ;  — 
Gentler  watchers  on  shore  there  be  ; 
Eyes  which  weep  for  us,  leaving  sleep  for  us, 

Fond  watch  keep  for  us,  out  at  sea  ! 

In  at  the  narrow  window  there 
Drifts  the  ocean  wind,  wild  and  damp, 

Frightening  into  flicker  and  flare 

The  feeble  flame  of  the  swinging  lamp  ; 


ON  THE  SEA.  169 

Yet,  though  lonesome  and  dark  it  be, 
There  are  places  where  steadily 
Faith's  fires  burn  for  us,  true  hearts  mourn  for  us, 
Dear  arms  yearn  for  us,  out  at  sea  ! 

Blinded  and  beaten  by  wind  and  foam, 
Hurled  and  tossed  at  the  sea's  command, 

Sweet  the  thought  that  in  some  dear  home, 
Steady  and  still  on  the  solid  land, 

Where  our  hopes  and  our  memories  be 

Safely  harbored  from  storm  and  sea. 

Love  takes  heed  for  us,  love's  hps  plead  for  us. 
Love's  prayers  speed  for  us,  out  at  sea ! 

Night  and  darkness,  and  storm  and  clouds ; 

Creak  of  cordage  and  shudder  of  sails  ; 
Drifting  drearily  through  the  shrouds. 

There  is  a  murmur  of  mournful  wails,  — 
Dirges  sung  for  the  lost  at  sea. 
Where  the  tempest  is  fierce  and  free : 
Father,  hear  to  us,  bend  Thine  ear  to  us, 

Be  thou  near  to  us,  out  at  sea  ! 

Elizabeth  Akers. 


ON   THE    SEA. 

'T^HE  pathway  of  the  sinking  moon 

-*■       Fades  from  the  silent  bay  ; 
The  mountain-isles  loom  large  and  faint. 

Folded  in  shadows  gray. 
And  the  lights  of  land  are  setting  stars 
That  soon  will  pass  away. 


170  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

O  boatman,  cease  thy  mellow  song  ! 

O  minstrel,  drop  thy  lyre  ! 
Let  us  hear  the  voice  of  the  midnight  sea, 

Let  us  speak  as  the  waves  inspire, 
While  the  plashy  dip  of  the  languid  oar 

Is  a  furrow  of  silver  fire. 

Day  cannot  make  thee  half  so  fair, 

Nor  the  stars  of  eve  so  dear ; 
The  arms  that  clasp  and  the  breast  that  keeps, 

They  tell  me  thou  art  near, 
And  the  perfect  beauty  of  thy  face 

In  thy  murmured  words  I  hear. 

The  lights  of  land  have  dropped  below 
The  vast  and  ghmmering  sea  ; 

The  world  we  leave  is  a  tale  that  is  told,  — 
A  fable  that  cannot  be. 

There  is  no  life  in  the  sphery  dark 
But  the  love  in  thee  and  me  ! 

Bayard  Taylor. 


FROM    "THE  BATH." 

TT  THERE  yonder  dancing  billows  dip, 
^^       Far-off,  to  ocean's  misty  verge. 
Ploughs  Morning,  like  a  full-sailed  ship. 
The  orient's  cloudy  surge. 


SUNKEN  TREASURES.  171 

With  spray  of  scarlet  fire  before 

The  ruffled  gold  that  round  her  dies, 
She  sails  above  the  sleeping  shore, 
Across  the  waking  skies. 

The  dewy  beach  beneath  her  glows  ; 

A  pencilled  beam,  the  lighthouse  burns  : 
Full-breathed,  the  fragrant  sea-wind  blows,  — 
Life  to  the  world  returns  ! 

Bayard  Taylor. 


SUNKEN    TREASURES. 

T  T  THEN  the  uneasy  waves  of  hfe  subside, 
^  ^      And  the  soothed  ocean  sleeps  in  glassy  rest, 
I  see  submerged,  beyond  or  storm  or  tide. 
The  treasures  gathered  in  its  greedy  breast. 

There  still  they  shine  through  the  translucent  Past, 

Far  down  on  that  forever  quiet  floor  ; 
No  fierce  upheaval  of  the  deep  shall  cast 

Them  back,  no  wave  shall  wash  them  to  the  shore. 

I  see  them  gleaming  beautiful  as  when 
Erewhile  they  floated,  convoys  of  my  fate; 

The  barks  of  lovely  women,  noble  men. 

Full  sailed  with  hope,  and  stored  with  Love's  own 
freight. 


172  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

The  sunken  treasures  of  my  heart  as  well 
Look  up  to  me  as  perfect  as  at  dawn  ; 

My  golden  palace  heaves  beneath  the  swell 
To  meet  my  touch,  and  is  again  withdrawn. 

There  sleep  the  early  triumphs,  cheaply  won, 
That  led  Ambition  to  his  utmost  verge  ; 

And  still  his  visions,  like  a  drowning  sun, 

Send  up  receding  splendors  through  the  surge. 

There  wait  the  recognitions,  the  quick  ties, 

Whence  the  heart  knows  its  kin  wherever  cast ; 

And  there  the  partings,  when  the  wistful  eyes 
Caress  each  other,  as  they  look  their  last. 

There  lie  the  summer  eves,  delicious  eves. 

The  soft  green  valleys  drenched  with  light  divine, 

The  lisping  murmurs  of  the  chestnut  leaves. 
The  hand  that  lay,  the  eyes  that  looked  in  mine. 

There  lives  the  hour  of  fear  and  rapture  yet, 
The  perilled  climax  of  the  passionate  years  ; 

There  still  the  rains  of  wan  December  wet 
A  naked  mound,  —  I  cannot  see  for  tears. 

I  see  them  all,  but  stretch  my  hands  in  vain  ; 

No  deep  sea  plummet  reaches  where  they  rest ; 
No  cunning  diver  shall  descend  the  main 

And  bring  a  single  jewel  from  its  breast. 

Bayard  Taylor. 


LOW  TIDE.  173 


LOW   TIDE. 


UNDER  the  clifF  I  walk  in  silence, 
While  the  intrepid  waters  flow, 
And  the  white  birds,  lit  by  the  sun  into  silver, 
Gutter  against  the  blue  below  ; 

And  the  tide  is  low. 


Here,  years  ago,  in  golden  weather, 
Under  the  cliff,  and  close  to  the  sea, 

A  pledge  was  given  that  made  me  master 
Of  all  that  ever  was  dear  to  me  ; 

And  the  tide  was  low. 

Only  a  little  year  fled  by  after, 
Then  my  bride  and  I  came  once  more. 

And  saw  the  sea,  Hke  a  bird  imprisoned. 
Beating  its  wings  'gainst  its  bars,  the  shore ; 
And  the  tide  was  low. 

Now  I  walk  alone  by  the  filmy  breakers,  — 

A  voice  is  hushed  I  can  never  forget ; 
Upon  my  sea  dead  calm  has  fallen, 
My  ships  are  harbored,  my  sun  is  set ; 
And  the  tide  is  low. 

Henry  Abbby. 


174  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


DONALD. 

OMY  white,  white,  hght  moon,  that  sailest  in  the 
sky, 
Look  down  upon  the  whirling  world,  for  thou  art  up  so 

high, 
And  tell  me  where  my  Donald  is  who  sailed  across  the 

sea. 
And  make  a  path  of  silver  light  to  lead  him  back  to 
me. 

O  my  white,  white,  bright  moon,  thy  cheek  is  coldly 

fair, 
A  little  cloud  beside  thee  seems  thy  wildly  floating 

hair  ; 
And  if  thou  wouldst  not  have  me  grow  as  white  and 

cold  as  thee. 
Go,  make  a  mighty  tide  to  draw  my  Donald  back  to 

me. 

0  my  light,  white,  bright  moon,  that  doth  so  fondly 

shine, 
There  is  not  a  lily  in  the  world  but  hides  its  face  from 
thine ; 

1  too  shall  go  and  hide  my  face  close  in  the  dust  from 

thee, 
Unless  with  light  and  tide  thou  bring  my  Donald  back 
to  me. 

Henry  Abbey. 


THE  LAND-SICK.  175 


THE    LAND-SICK. 

r~^  REEN  fields  are  about  me  with  hill  and  plain, 
^-^     And  corn  on  the  upland  lea ; 
I  long  for  the  blue  and  billowy  main, 
And  instead  of  these  harvests  of  waving  grain 
For  the  roll  and  the  surf  of  the  sea. 

The  swallow  is  twittering  my  window  by, 

And  carols  his  summer  song  ; 
'Twere  better  aloft  on  the  tops  to  He, 
While  the  gull  and  the  sea-mew  around  me  fly, 

Still  swooping  and  circling  along. 

I  hear  the  laugh  and  the  revelling  shout 

Of  the  jocund  boys  at  play  ; 
But  the  silvery  dolphin  seems  sporting  about, 
And  I  think  how  the  pirate  bonita  leaps  out 

For  its  reckless  and  fugitive  prey.  . 

With  their  "church-going  bells,"  my  ears  they  tire, 

And  weary  is  service  time  ; 
Give  me  the  tall  mast  for  the  tapering  spire, 
And  the  high-piping  winds  for  the  pealing  choir, 

With  the  dash  of  the  waves  to  chime  ! 

They  point  to  the  woodlands,  and  rocks  so  gray 

With  their  shadows  ere  twihght's  begun  ; 
One  hour  of  the  sea-cradled  dying  of  day, 
With  a  phantom-like  sail  in  the  distance  away. 
Is  enough  for  my  mother's  son  ! 


176  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

And  then,  when  the  broad  harvest-moon  one  sees 

Climb  up  in  the  eastern  sky, 
He  thinks  what  bright  watches  on  deck  are  these, 
With  the  mizzen-top-gallant  swelled  full  by  the  breeze, 

And  the  star-spangled  waves  dancing  by. 

They  call  this  home,  and  they  whisper  me 

That  my  thoughts  are  but  truants  now ; 
But  there's  many  a  home  o'er  the  deep  blue  sea, 
And  love-lit  eyes  'neath  the  banyan-tree 
Or  the  shade  of  the  orange-bough  ! 

E.  W.  B.  Canning. 


BY  THE   SEA. 

O  LOWLY,  steadily,  under  the  moon, 
*^     Swings  the  tide,  in  its  old-time  way  ; 
Never  too  late,  and  never  too  soon,  — 

And  the  evening  and  morning  make  the  day. 

Slowly,  steadily,  over  the  sands, 
And  over  the  rocks,  to  fall  and  flow, 

And  this  wave  has  touched  a  dead  man's  hands, 
And  that  one  has  seen  a  face  we  know. 

They  have  borne  the  good  ship  on  her  way. 
Or  buried  her  deep  from  love  and  light ; 

And  yet,  as  they  sink  at  our  feet  to-day. 

Ah,  who  shall  interpret  their  message  aright  ? 


BY  THE  SEA.  177 

For  their  separate  voices  of  grief  and  cheer 
Are  blending  at  last  in  one  solemn  tone ; 

And  only  this  song  of  the  waves  I  hear, 
"  Forever  and  ever  His  will  is  done  !  " 

Slowly,  steadily,  to  and  fro, 

Swings  our  life  in  its  weary  way  ; 
Now  at  its  ebb,  and  now  at  its  flow,  — 

And  the  evening  and  morning  make  the  day. 

Sorrow  and  happiness,  peace  and  strife, 
Fear  and  rejoicing,  its  moments  know, — 

How,  from  the  discords  of  such  a  life. 
Can  the  clear  music  of  heaven  flow  ? 

Yet  to  the  ear  of  God  it  swells. 
And  to  the  blessed  round  the  throne. 

Sweeter  than  chimes  of  Sabbath  bells,  — 
"  Forever  and  ever  His  will  is  done  !  " 

Anon. 


BY  THE   SEA. 

T  WALKED  with  her  I  love  by  the  sea. 

The  deep  came  up  with  its  chanting  waves. 
Making  a  music  so  great  and  free 
That  the  will  and  the  faith,  which  were  dead  in  me, 
Awoke  and  rose  from  their  graves. 


178  SEA  AND  SHORE. 

Chanting,  and  with  a  regal  sweep 

Of  their  'broidered  garments  up  and  down 

The  strand,  came  the  mighty  waves  of  the  deep, 
Dragging  the  wave-worn  drift  from  its  sleep 
Along  the  sea-sands  bare  and  brown. 

"  O  my  soul,  make  the  song  of  the  sea  !  "  I  cried. 

"  How  it  comes,  with  its  stately  tread. 
And  its  dreadful  voice,  and  the  splendid  pride 

Of  its  regal  garments  flowing  wide 

Over  the  land !  "  to  my  soul  I  said. 

My  soul  was  still ;  the  deep  went  down. 

"  What  hast  thou,  my  soul,"  I  cried, 
"  In  thy  song  ?  '^     "  The  sea-sands  bare  and  brown, 

With  broken  shells  and  sea-weed  strown, 
And  stranded  drift,"  my  soul  replied. 

W.  D.  HowELLs; 


BUBBLES. 


T  STOOD  on  the  brink  in  childhood, 
-^     And  watched  the  bubbles  go 
From  the  rock-fretted,  sunny  ripple 
To  the  smoother  tide  below  ; 

And  over  the  white  creek-bottom, 

Under  them  every  one. 
Went  golden  stars  in  the  water, 

All  luminous  with  the  sun. 


PLEASURE-PAIN.  1 7  9 

But  the  bubbles  broke  on  the  surface ; 

And  under,  the  stars  of  gold 
Broke  ;  and  the  hurrying  water 

Flowed  onward,  swift  and  cold. 


I  stood  on  the  brink  in  manhood, 
And  it  came  to  my  weary  brain, 

And  my  heart,  so  dull  and  heavy 
After  the  years  of  pain,  — 

That  every  hollowest  bubble 

Which  over  my  life  had  passed 

Still  into  its  deeper  current 

Some  heavenly  gleam  had  cast ; 

That,  however  I  mocked  it  gayly. 
And  guessed  at  its  hollowness, 

Still  shone,  with  each  bursting  bubble, 
One  star  in  my  soul  the  less. 

W.  D.  HOWKLLS. 


PLEASURE-PAIN. 


/^NE  sails  away  to  sea, 
^-^     One  stands  on  the  shore  and  cries  ; 
The  ship  goes  down  the  world,  and  the  light 
On  the  sullen  water  dies. 


i8o  SEA  AND  SHORE. 

The  whispering  shell  is  mute, 

And  after  is  evil  cheer  : 
She  shall  stand  on  the  shore  and  cry  in  vain 

Many  and  many  a  year. 

But  the  stately,  wide-winged  ship 
Lies  wrecked  on  the  unknown  deep ; 

Far  under,  dead  in  his  coral  bed, 
The  lover  hes  asleep. 


II. 

Like  a  bird  of  evil  presage, 

To  the  lonely  house  on  the  shore 
Came  the  wind  with  a  tale  of  shipwreck, 

And  shrieked  at  the  bolted  door, 

And  flapped  its  wings  in  the  gables, 
And  shouted  the  well-known  names. 

And  buffeted  the  windows 

Afeard  in  their  shuddering  frames. 

It  was  night,  and  it  is  morning,  — 

The  summer  sun  is  bland. 
The  white-cap  waves  come  rocking,  rocking 

In  to  the  summer  land. 

The  white-cap  waves  come  rocking,  rocking 

In  the  sun  so  soft  and  bright. 
And  toss  and  play  with  the  dead  man 

Drowned  in  the  storm  last  night. 

W.  D.   HOWELLS. 


SONG   OF  THE  BANISH  SEA-KING.       i8i 


THE   SEA. 

TT  surged  and  foamed  on  cold  gray  lands, 

■^     No  life  was  in  its  waves  : 

It  rolled  and  raged  on  barren  strands, 

Or  thundered  into  caves  ; 
And  yet  it  sang  a  glorious  song, 
An  ancient  paean  loud  and  long. 

It  broke  upon  the  new-made  beach, 

That  roaring,  restless  Sea, 
The  only  burden  of  its  speech 

One  word,  —  Eternity  ; 
And  ever  sang  that  glorious  song, 
An  ancient  paean  loud  and  long. 

Edmund  Sandars. 


SONG   OF   THE   DANISH   SEA-KING. 

/^UR  bark  is  on  the  waters  deep,  our  bright  blade's 

^^     in  our  hand. 

Our  birthright  is   the    ocean   vast,  —  we   scorn    the 

girdled  land  ; 
And  the  hollow  wind  is  our  music  brave,  and  none 

can  bolder  be 
Than  the  hoarse-tongued  tempest  raving  o'er  a  proud 

and  swelling  sea  ! 


1 82  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Our  bark   is   dancing  on   the  waves,  its    tall   masts 

quivering  bend 
Before  the  gale,  which  hails  us  now  with  the  hollo  of  a 

friend ; 
And  its  prow  is  sheering  merrily  the  upcurled  billow's 

foam. 
While  our  hearts,  with  throbbing  gladness,  cheer  old 

Ocean  as  our  home. 

Our  eagle  wings  of  might  we  stretch  before  the  gallant 

wind, 
And  we  leave  the  tame  and  sluggish  earth  a  dim  mean 

speck  behind ; 
We   shoot  into    the    untracked  deep,   as   earth-freed 

spirits  soar, 
Like  stars  of  fire  through  boundless  space,  —  through 

realms  without  a  shore  ! 

Lords  of  this  wide-spread  wilderness   of  waters,  we 

bound  free, 
The  haughty  elements  alone  dispute  our  sovereignty  ; 
No  landmark  doth  our  freedom  let,  for  no  law  of  man 

can  mete 
The  sky  which  arches  o'er  our  head,  the  waves  which 

kiss  our  feet ! 

The  warrior  of  the  land  may  back  the  wild  horse,  in 

his  pride  ; 
But  a  fiercer  steed  we  dauntless  breast,  —  the  untamed 

ocean  tide ; 


WE  EL  MAY  THE  BOATIE  ROW.  183 

And  a  nobler  tilt  our  bark  careers,  as  it  quells  the 

saucy  wave, 
While  the  herald  storm  peals  o'er  the  deep  the  glories 

of  the  brave. 

Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  the  wind  is  up,  —  it  bloweth  fresh 
and  free, 

And  every  cord  instinct  with  life  pipes  loud  its  fear- 
less glee  ; 

Big  swell  the  bosomed  sails  with  joy,  and  they  madly 
kiss  the  spray. 

As  proudly,  through  the  foaming  surge,  the  Sea- King 
bears  away  ! 

William  Motherwell. 


WEEL   MAY  THE   BOATIE   ROW. 

TT7EEL  may  the  boatie   row,  and  better  may  it 

'  ^      speed, 
Weel  may  the  boatie  row  that  gains  the  bairnies'  bread. 
The  boatie  rows,  the  boatie  rows,  the  boatie  rows  fu' 

weel. 
And  mickle  luck  attend  the  boat,  the  merhn,  and  the 
creel. 

I  cast  my  line  in  Largo  Bay,  and  fishes  I  caught  nine  ; 
Three  to  boil,  and  three  to  fry,  and  three  to  bait  the 

line. 
The  boatie   rows,  the  boatie   rows,  the  boatie  rows 

indeed. 
And  happy  be  the  lot  of  a'  who  wishes  her  to  speed. 


184  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

When  Sawnie,  Jock,  and   Janetie   are  up  and  gotten 

lear, 
They'll  help  to  gar  the  boatie  row,  and  lighten  all  our 

care. 
The  boatie  rows,  the  boatie  rows,  the  boatie  rows  fu' 

weel, 
And  lightsome  be  her  heart  that  bears  the  merlin  and 

the  creel. 

And  when  wi'  age  we're  worn  down,  and  hirpling  at 

the  door, 
They'll  row  to  keep  us  dry  and  warm,  as  we  did  them 

before. 
The  boatie  rows,  the  boatie   rows,  the  boatie  rows 

indeed, 
And  happy  be  tlie  lot  of  a'  that  wish  the  boat  to  speed. 

John  Ewen. 


TOO   LONG,    O   SPIRIT   OF   STORM. 

'T^OO  long,  O  spirit  of  Storm, 
-'■     Thy  lightning  sleeps  in  its  sheath  ! 
I  am  sick  to  the  soul  of  yon  pallid  sky, 
And  the  moveless  sea  beneath. 

Come  down  in  thy  strength  on  the  deep  ! 

Worse  dangers  there  are  in  life, 
When  the  waves  are  still,  and  the  skies  look  fair, 

Than  in  their  wildest  strife. 


STORM-SONG.  185 

A  friend  I  knew,  whose  days 

Were  as  calm  as  this  sky  overhead  ; 

But  one  blue  morn  that  was  fairest  of  all, 
The  heart  in  his  bosom  fell  dead. 

And  they  thought  him  alive  while  he  walked 
The  streets  that  he  walked  in  youth,  — • 

Ah  !  little  they  guessed  the  seeming  man 
Was  a  soulless  corpse  in  sooth. 

Come  down  in  thy  strength,  O  Storm  ! 

And  lash  the  deep  till  it  raves  ! 
I  am  sick  to  the  soul  of  that  quiet  sea, 

Which  hides  ten  thousand  graves. 

Henry  Timrod. 


STORM-SONG. 

'T^HE  clouds  are  scudding  across  the  moon, 
•*•       A  misty  light  is  on  the  sea  ; 

The  wind  in  the  shrouds  has  a  wintry  tune, 
And  the  foam  is  flying  free. 

Brothers,  a  night  of  terror  and  gloom 
Speaks  in  the  cloud  and  gathering  roar : 

Thank  God,  He  has  given  us  broad  sea-room, 
A  thousand  miles  from  shore. 

Down  with  the  hatches  on  those  who  sleep  1 
The  wild  and  whistling  deck  have  we  : 

Good  watch,  my  brothers,  to-night  we'll  keep, 
While  the  tempest  is  on  the  sea  ! 


1 86  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Though  the  rigging  shriek  in  his  terrible  grip, 
And  the  naked  spars  be  snapped  away, 

Lashed  to  the  helm,  we'll  drive  our  ship 
In  the  teeth  of  the  whelming  spray  ! 

Hark  !  how  the  surges  o'erleap  the  deck  ! 

Hark  !  how  the  pitiless  tempest  raves  ! 
Ah.  daylight  will  look  upon  many  a  wreck 

Drifting  over  the  desert  waves. 

Yet,  courage,  brothers  !  we  trust  the  wave. 
With  God  above  us,  our  guiding  chart ; 

So,  whether  to  harbor  or  ocean-grave, 
Be  it  still  with  a  cheery  heart ! 

Bayard  Taylor. 


THE   LONG   WHITE   SEAM. 

A  S  I  came  round  the  harbor  buoy. 
The  lights  began  to  gleam, 

o  a  o  7 

No  wave  the  land-locked  harbor  stirred, 

The  crags  were  white  as  cream  ; 
And  I  marked  my  love  by  candle-light 
Sewing  her  long  white  seam. 

It's  aye  sewing  ashore,  my  dear, 

Watch  and  steer  at  sea  ; 
It's  reef  and  furl  and  haul  the  line, 
Set  sail  and  think  of  thee. 


SONG   OF  THE   GALLEY.  187 

I  climbed  to  reach  her  cottage  door  ; 

O  sweetly  my  love  sings  ; 
Like  a  shaft  of  light  her  voice  breaks  forth, 

My  soul  to  meet  it  springs, 
As  the  shining  water  leaped  of  old, 
When  stirred  by  angel  wings. 
Aye  longing  to  list  anew, 

Awake  and  in  my  dream  ; 
But  never  a  song  she  sang  hke  this, 
Sewing  her  long  white  seam. 

Fair  fall  the  lights,  the  harbor  lights 

That  brought  me  in  to  thee. 
And  peace  drop  down  on  that  low  roof 

For  the  sight  that  I  did  see, 
And  the  voice,  my  dear,  that  rang  so  clear, 
All  for  the  love  of  me. 

For  O,  for  O,  with  brows  bent  low, 
By  the  candle's  flickering  gleam, 
Her  wedding  gown  it  was  she  wrought, 
Sewing  the  long  white  seam. 

Jean  Ingelow. 


THE   SONG  OF  THE   GALLEY. 

From  the  Spanish. 

I. 
"""VT^E  mariners  of  Spain, 

■*■       Bend  strongly  on  your  oars. 


And  bring  my  love  again. 
For  he  lies  among  the  Moors. 


1 88  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


II. 


"  Ye  galleys  fairly  built 
Like  castles  on  the  sea, 
O  great  will  be  your  guilt, 
If  ye  bring  him  not  to  me. 

III. 

"  The  wind  is  blowing  strong, 
The  breeze  will  aid  your  oars  \ 
O  swiftly  fly  along, 
For  he  lies  among  the  Moors. 

IV. 

"  The  sweet  breeze  of  the  sea 
Cools  every  cheek  but  mine  : 
Hot  is  its  breath  to  me. 
As  I  gaze  upon  the  brine. 

V. 

"  Lift  up,  lift  up  your  sail. 
And  bend  upon  your  oars  ; 

0  lose  not  the  fair  gale. 

For  he  lies  among  the  Moors. 

VI. 

"  It  is  a  narrow  strait, 

1  see  the  blue  hills  over  ; 
Your  coming  I'll  await. 
And  thank  you  for  my  lover. 


BOAT-SONG.— A   MYTH.  189 


VII. 

"  To  Mary  I  will  pray, 

While  ye  bend  upon  your  oars  ; 

'Twill  be  a  blessed  day, 

If  ye  fetch  him  from  the  Moors." 

J.    G.    LOCKHART. 


BOAT-SONG. 

r\  SWEET  the  flight  at  dead  of  night, 
^-^     When,  up  the  immeasurable  height, 
The  thin  cloud  wanders  with  the  breeze 
That  shakes  the  splendor  from  the  star, 
That  stoops  and  crisps  the  darkling  seas 
And  drives  the  daring  keel  afar. 
Where  solitude  and  silence  are  ! 
To  cleave  the  crested  wave,  and  mark 
Drowned  in  its  depths  the  shattered  spark, 
On  airy  swells  to  soar  and  rise, 
Where  nothing  but  the  foam-bell  flies. 
O'er  freest  tracks  of  wild  delight,  — 
O  sweet  the  flight  at  dead  of  night  ! 

Harriet  Prescott  Spofford. 


A  MYTH. 

A    FLOATING,  a  floating 
■^  ^     Across  the  sleeping  sea, 
All  night  I  heard  a  singing  bird 
Upon  the  topmast  tree. 


igo  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

"  Oh,  came  you  from  the  isles  of  Greece 

Or  from  the  banks  of  Seine  ? 
Or  off  some  tree  in  forests  free 

.That  fringe  the  western  main  ?" 

"  I  came  not  off  the  old  world, 

Nor  yet  from  off  the  new  ; 
But  I  am  one  of  the  birds  of  God 

Which  sing  the  whole  night  through." 

"  Oh,  sing  and  wake  the  dawning  ! 

Oh,  whistle  for  the  wind  ! 
The  night  is  long,  the  current  strong, 

My  boat  it  lags  behind." 

"  The  current  sweeps  the  old  world, 

The  current  sweeps  the  new  ; 
The  wind  will  blow,  the  dawn  will  glow, 

Ere  thou  hast  sailed  them  through." 

C.  KiNGSLEY. 

A   LITTLE   WHILE. 

A    LITTLE  while,  a  little  love 
■^  ^      The  hour  yet  bears  for  thee  and  me, 
Who  have  not  drawn  the  veil  to  see 

If  still  our  heaven  be  lit  above. 
Thou  merely,  at  the  day's  last  sigh. 

Hast  felt  thy  soul  prolong  the  tone  ; 
And  I  have  heard  the  night-wind  cry, 

And  deemed  its  speech  my  own. 


AGAIN?  191 

A  little  while,  a  little  love 
The  scattering  Autumn  hoards  for  us, 
Whose  bower  is  not  yet  ruinous, 

Nor  quite  unleaved  our  songless  grove. 
Only  across  the  shaken  boughs 

We  hear  the  flood-tides  seek  the  sea, 
And  deep  in  both  our  hearts  they  rouse 

One  wail  for  thee  and  me. 

A  little  while,  a  little  love 
May  yet  be  ours  who  have  not  said 
The  word  it  makes  our  eyes  afraid 

To  know  that  each  is  thinking  of. 
Not  yet  the  end  ;  be  our  hps  dumb 

In  smiles  a  little  season  yet ; 
I'll  tell  thee,  when  the  end  is  come, 

How  we  may  best  forget. 

Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti. 


AGAIN  ? 

/^H,  sweet  and  fair  !     Oh,  rich  and  rare  ! 

^-^     That  day  so  long  ago. 

The  Autumn  sunshine  everywhere, 

The  heather  all  aglow, 
The  ferns  were  clad  in  cloth  of  gold, 

The  waves  sang  on  the  shore. 
Such  suns  will  shine,  such  waves  will  sing 

Forever  evermore. 


192  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Oh,  fit  and  few  !     Oh,  tried  and  true  ! 

The  friends  who  met  that  day. 
Each  one  the  other's  spirit  knew, 

And  so  in  earnest  play 
The  hours  flew  past,  until  at  last 

The  twilight  kissed  the  shore. 
We  said,  "  Such  days  shall  come  again 

Forever  evermore." 

One  day  again,  no  cloud  of  pain 

A  shadow  o'er  us  cast ; 
And  yet  we  strove  in  vain,  in  vain, 

To  conjure  up  the  past  ; 
Like,  but  unHke,  —  the  sun  that  shone, 

The  waves  that  beat  the  shore. 
The  words  we  said,  the  songs  we  sung, 
evermore. 

For  ghosts  unseen  crept  in  between. 

And,  when  our  songs  flowed  free, 
Sang  discords  in  an  undertone, 

And  marred  our  harmony. 
"The  past  is  ours,  not  yours,"  they  said: 

"  The  waves  that  beat  the  shore. 
Though  like  the  same,  are  not  the  same, 

Oh,  never,  never  more  !  " 

Eraser's  Magazine. 


THE  SURVIVORS.  193 


THE   SURVIVORS. 

TN  this  sad  hour,  so  still,  so  late, 
-■-     When  flowers  are  dead  and  birds  are  flown, 
Close-sheltered  from  the  blasts  of  Fate, 
Our  little  love  burns  brightly  on. 

Amid  the  wrecks  of  dear  desire 

That  ride  the  waves  of  hfe  no  more ; 

As  stranded  voyagers  light  their  fire 
Upon  a  lonely  island  shore. 

And  though  we  deem  that,  soft  and  fair, 

Beyond  the  tempest  and  the  sea, 
Our  hearts'  true  homes  are  smihng,  where 

In  life  we  never  more  shall  be,  — 

Yet  we  are  saved,  and  we  may  rest ; 

And,  hearing  each  the  other's  voice, 
We  cannot  hold  ourselves  unblest, 

Although  we  may  not  quite  rejoice. 

We'll  warm  our  hearts  and  softly  sing 
Thanks  for  the  shore  whereon  we're  driven  ; 

Storm-tossed  no  more,  we'll  fold  the  wing. 
And  dream  forgotten  dreams  of  heaven. 

H.  w.  p. 


194  SEA  AND  SHORE. 


THINE. 

'T^HE  tide  will  ebb  at  day's  decline. 
-■-  (Ich  bin  dein.) 

Impatient  for  the  open  sea, 
At  anchor  rocks  the  tossing  ship, — 
The  ship  that  only  waits  for  thee  ; 
Yet,  with  no  tremble  of  the  lip, 
I  say  again,  thy  hand  in  mine, 

(Ich  bin  dein). 

Too  many  clusters  break  the  vine. 

(Ich  bin  dein.) 
The  tree  whose  strength  and  life  outpour 
In  one  exultant  blossom-gush 
Must  flowerless  be  for  evermore  ; 
We  walk  this  way  but  once,  friend,  —  hush  ! 
Our  feet  have  left  no  trodden  Hne. 

(Ich  bin  dein.) 

Who  heaps  his  goblet  wastes  his  wine. 

(Ich  bin  dein.) 
The  boat  is  moving  from  the  land, 
I  have  no  chiding  and  no  tears. 
Now  give  me  back  my  empty  hand, 
To  battle  with  the  cruel  years  ! 
Behold  the  triumph  shall  be  mine  ! 

(Ich  bin  dein.) 

Elizabeth  Akers. 


ALL   THE  RIVERS.  19S 


ALL  THE   RIVERS. 


A 


LL  the  rivers  run  into  the  sea." 
Like  the  pulsing  of  a  river, 
The  motion  of  a  song, 


Wind  the  olden  words  along 
The  tortuous  windings  of  my  thought,  whenever 
I  sit  beside  the  sea. 

All  the  rivers  run  into  the  sea. 

O  you  little  leaping  river. 
Laugh  on  beneath  your  breath  ! 
With  a  heart  as  deep  as  death, 

Strong  stream,  go  patient,  brave  and  hasting  never, 
I  sit  beside  the  sea. 

All  the  rivers  run  into  the  sea. 

Why  the  striving  of  a  river, 

The  passion  of  a  soul  ? 

Calm  the  eternal  waters  roll 
Upon  the  eternal  shore.     Somewhere,  whatever 
Seeks  it  finds  the  sea. 

All  the  rivers  run  into  the  sea. 

O  thou  bounding,  burning  river. 

Hurrying  heart !  —  I  seem 

To  know  (so  one  knows  in  a  dream) 

That  in  the  waiting  heart  of  God  for  ever 
Thou  too  shalt  find  the  sea. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps. 


196  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


SONG. 

TN  the  summer  twilight, 

While  yet  the  dew  was  hoar, 
I  went  plucking  purple  pansies 

Till  my  love  should  come  to  shore. 
The  fishing-lights  their  dances 

Were  keeping  out  at  sea. 
And  "  Come,"  I  sang,  "  my  true  love, 

Come  hasten  home  to  me  !  " 

But  the  sea  it  fell  a-moaning, 

And  the  white  gulls  rocked  thereon, 
And  the  young  moon  dropped  from  heaven, 

And  the  lights  hid,  one  by  one. 
All  silently  their  glances 

Slipped  down  the  cruel  sea, 
And  "  Wait,"  cried  the  night  and  wind  and 
storm, 

"  Wait  till  I  come  to  thee  !  " 

Harriet  Prescott  Spofford. 


''WHEN   THE   TIDE    COMES    IN." 

TT  THEN  the  tide  comes  in, 
^^      At  once  the  shore  and  sea  begin 
Together  to  be  glad. 
What  the  tide  has  brought 
No  man  has  asked,  no  man  has  sought : 


"  WHEN  THE    TIDE   COMES  IN?'         197 

What  other  tides  have  had 
The  deep  sand  hides  away ; 
The  last  bit  of  the  wrecks  they  wrought 
Was  burned  up  yesterday. 

When  the  tide  goes  out. 
The  shore  looks  dark  and  sad  with  doubt. 

The  landmarks  are  all  lost. 

For  the  tide  to  turn 
Men  patient  wait,  men  restless  yearn. 

Sweet  channels  they  have  crossed, 

In  boats  that  rocked  with  glee. 
Stretch  now  bare  stony  roads,  that  burn 

And  lead  away  from  sea. 

When  the  tide  comes  in 
In  hearts,  at  once  the  hearts  begin 

Together  to  be  glad. 

What  the  tide  has  brought 
They  do  not  care,  they  have  not  sought. 

All  joy  they  ever  had 

The  new  joy  multiplies  ; 
All  pain  by  which  it  may  be  bought 

Seems  paltry  sacrifice. 

When  the  tide  goes  out. 
The  hearts  are  wrung  with  fear  and  doubt : 

All  trace  of  joy  seems  lost. 

Will  the  tide  return  ? 
In  restless  questioning  they  yearn. 


198  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

With  hands  unclasped,  uncrossed, 
They  weep,  on  separate  ways. 
Ah  !  darhng,  shall  we  ever  learn 
Love's  tidal  hours  and  days  ? 


H.  H. 


SONG. 

TT  7E  sail  toward  evening's  lonely  star, 
^  '       That  trembles  in  the  tender  blue  ; 
One  single  cloud,  a  dusky  bar, 

Burnt  with  dull  carmine  through  and  through, 
Slow  smouldering  in  the  summer  sky. 

Lies  low  along  the  fading  west ; 
How  sweet  to  watch  its  splendors  die. 

Wave-cradled  thus,  and  wind-caressed  ! 

The  soft  breeze  freshens  ;  leaps  the  spray 

To  kiss  our  cheeks  with  sudden  cheer. 
Upon  the  dark  edge  of  the  bay 

Lighthouses  kindle  far  and  near. 
And  through  the  warm  deeps  of  the  sky 

Steal  faint  star-clusters,  while  we  rest 
In  deep  refreshment,  thou  and  I, 

Wave-cradled  thus,  and  wind-caressed. 

How  like  a  dream  are  earth  and  heaven, 
Star-beam  and  darkness,  sky  and  sea  ; 

Thy  face,  pale  in  the  shadowy  even, 
Thy  quiet  eyes  that  gaze  on  me  ! 


A    WET  SHEET  AND  FLOWING  SEA.      199 

Oh,  realize  the  moment's  charm, 

Thou  dearest !     We  are  at  life's  best, 

Folded  in  God's  encircling  arm, 
Wave-cradled  thus,  and  wind-caressed  ! 

Celia  Thaxter. 


A  WET  SHEET  AND  A  FLOWING  SEA. 

A    WET  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea,  — 
-^^^     A  wind  that  follows  fast, 
That  fills  the  white  and  rustling  sail, 

And  bends  the  gallant  mast,  — 
And  bends  the  gallant  mast,  my  boys, 

While,  Uke  the  eagle  free, 
Away  the  good  ship  flies,  and  leaves 

Old  England  on  the  lee. 

Oh  for  a  soft  and  gentle  wind ! 

I  heard  a  fair  one  cry  ; 
But  give  to  me  the  snoring  breeze, 

And  white  waves  heaving  high, — 
And  white  waves  heaving  high,  my  boys, 

The  good  ship  tight  and  free  ; 
The  world  of  waters  is  our  home, 

And  merry  men  are  we. 

There's  tempest  in  yon  horned  moon. 

And  lightning  in  yon  cloud  ; 
And  hark  the  music,  mariners  ! 

The  wind  is  piping  loud, — 


SEA   AND  SHORE. 

The  wind  is  piping  loud,  my  boys. 

The  lightning  flashing  free  ; 
While  the  hollow  oak  our  palace  is, 

Our  heritage  the  sea. 

Allan  Cunningham. 


SONG. 

npHERE  be  none  of  beauty's  daughters 

■^       With  a  magic  like  thee ; 
And  hke  music  on  the  waters 
Is  thy  sweet  voice  to  me  ; 
When,  as  if  its  sound  were  causing 
The  charmed  ocean's  pausing, 
The  waves  he  still  and  gleaming, 
And  the  lulled  winds  seem  dreaming, 

And  the  midnight  moon  is  weaving 
Her  bright  chain  o'er  the  deep. 

Whose  breast  is  gently  heaving, 
As  an  infant's  asleep  ; 

So  the  spirit  bows  before  thee, 

To  listen  and  adore  thee 

With  a  full  but  soft  emotion, 

Like  the  swell  of  summer's  ocean. 

Byron. 


THE  FISHING-SONG. 


THE    FISHING-SONG. 

TPvOWN  in  the  wide,  gray  river 
-■-^     The  current  is  sweeping  strong : 
Over  the  wide,  gray  river 
Floats  the  fisherman's  song. 

The  oar-stroke  times  the  singing, 
The  song  falls  with  the  oar ; 

And  an  echo  in  both  is  ringing 
I  thought  to  hear  no  more. 

Out  of  a  deeper  current 
The  song  brings  back  to  me 

A  cry  from  mortal  silence 
Of  mortal  agony. 

Life  that  was  spent  and  vanished, 
Love  that  had  died  of  wrong. 

Hearts  that  are  dead  in  living, 

Come  back  in  the  fisherman's  song. 

I  see  the  maples  leafing 

Just  as  they  leafed  before  ; 
The  green  grass  comes  no  greener 

Down  to  the  very  shore,  — 

With  the  rude  strain,  swelling,  sinking, 

In  the  cadence  of  days  gone  by, 
As  the  oar,  from  the  water  drinking, 


Ripples  the  mirrored  sky. 


202  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Yet  the  soul  hath  life  diviner  ; 

Its  past  returns  no  more, 
But  in  echoes,  that  answer  the  minor 

Of  the  boat-song  from  the  shore. 

And  the  ways  of  God  are  darkness  ; 

His  judgment  waiteth  long  ; 
He  breaks  the  heart  of  a  woman 

With  a  fisherman's  careless  song. 


Rose  Terry. 


"BREAK,   BREAK,    BREAK." 

"OREAK,  break,  break, 
-'-^     On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  O  sea ! 
And  I  would  that  my  tongue  could  utter 
The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me. 

Oh,  well  for  the  fisherman's  boy 

That  he  shouts  with  his  sister  at  play ! 

Oh,  well  for  the  sailor  lad 

That  he  sings  in  his  boat  on  the  bay  ! 

And  the  stately  ships  go  on 

To  the  haven  under  the  hill ; 
But  oh  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 

And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still ! 

Break,  break,  break, 

At  the  foot  of  thy  crags,  O  sea  ! 
But  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead 

Will  never  come  back  to  me. 

Alfred  Tennyson. 


ODE    TO  NEPTUNE.  203 

ODE   TO    NEPTUNE, 
On  Mrs.  W 's  Voyage  to  England. 

By  Phillis  Wheatly,  an  African  slave  in  Boston,  Oct.  10,  1772. 

WHILE  raging  tempests  shake  the  shore, 
While  .^olus'  thunders  round  us  roar, 
And  sweep  impetuous  o'er  the  plain. 
Be  still,  O  tyrant  of  the  main  ; 
Nor  let  thy  brow  contracted  frowns  betray, 
While  my  Susannah  skims  the  watery  way. 

The  Power  propitious  hears  the  lay, 
The  blue-eyed  daughters  of  the  sea 
With  sweeter  cadence  glide  along. 
And  Thames  responsive  joins  the  song. 
Pleased  with  their  note,  Sol  sheds  benign  his  ray, 
And  double  radiance  decks  the  face  of  day. 

To  court  thee  to  Britannia's  arms. 
Serene  the  chme  and  mild  the  sky ; 
Her  region  boasts  unnumbered  charms  ; 
Thy  welcome  smiles  in  ev'ry  eye. 
Thy  promise,  Neptune,  keep  ;  record  my  prayer. 
Nor  give  my  wishes  to  the  empty  air. 


204  SEA  AND  SHORE. 

REMEMBEREST   THOU   THE   DAY? 

From  Lermontoff 


"P  EMEMBEREST  thou  the  day  when  we  — 
■*-^  Late  was  the  hour — were  forced  to  part  ? 
The  night-gun  boomed  athwart  the  sea  ; 

In  painful  silence  beat  each  heart ; 
The  lonely  day  found  cloudy  close  ; 

A  heavy  mist  the  landscape  palled  ; 
And  seemed  it,  when  a  shot  arose, 

An  echo  from  the  ocean  called. 


Alone  I  wander  by  the  flood  ; 

And  when  a  gun  booms  in  its  might, 
I  think  with  pain  how  once  we  stood 

Together  on  that  parting  night. 
And,  as  the  mournful  echoes  roll. 

Muffled  along  the  fluid  walls. 
From  out  the  caverns  of  my  soul 

Death  answeringly  calls  and  calls. 


W.  R.  Alger. 


LA   MER.  205 


LA   MER. 


T~\ES  vastes  mers  tableau  philosophique, 
-*-^     Tu  plais  au  cceur  de  chagrins  agit€ : 
Quand  de  ton  sein,  par  les  vents  tourment^, 
Quand  des  ecueils  et  des  greves  antiques 
Sortent  des  bruits,  des  voix  melancoliques, 
L'ame  attendrie  en  ses  reves  se  perd, 
Et,  s'egarant  de  penser  en  penser 
Comme  les  flots  de  murmure  en  murmure, 
EUe  se  mele  a  toute  la  nature : 
Avec  les  vents,  dans  le  fond  des  deserts, 
Elle  gdmit  le  long  des  bois  sauvages, 
Sur  r Ocean  vole  avec  les  orages, 
Gronde  en  la  foudre  et  tonne  dans  les  mers. 

Mais  quand  le  jour  sur  les  vagues  tremblantes 
S'en  va  mourir  ;  quand,  souriant  encor, 
Le  vieux  soleil  glace  de  pourpre  et  d'or 
Le  vert  changeant  des  mers  etincelantes, 
Dans  des  lointains  fuyants  et  veloutes, 
En  enfongant  ma  pensee  et  ma  vue, 
J'aime  a  creer  des  mondes  enchantes, 
Baignes  des  eaux  d'une  mer  inconnue. 
L'ardent  desir,  des  obstacles  vainqueur, 
Trouve,  embellit  des  rives  bocageres, 
Des  lieux  de  paix,  des  iles  de  bonheur, 
Ou,  transporte  par  les  douces  chimeres, 
Je  m'abandonne  aux  songes  de  mon  coeur. 

Chateaubriand. 


206  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


LES    DEUX   ILES. 

TL  est  deux  isles  dont  un  monde 

■*■     Sdpare  les  deux  Oceans, 

Et  qui  de  loin  dominent  I'onde, 

Comme  des  tetes  de  geants. 

On  devine,  en  voyant  leurs  cimes, 

Que  Dieu  les  tira  des  abimes 

Pour  un  formidable  dessein  ; 

Leur  front  de  coups  de  foudre  fume, 

Sur  leurs  flancs  nus  la  mer  dcume, 

Des  volcans  grondent  dans  leur  sein. 

Ces  lies,  ou  le  flot  se  broie 
Entre  des  ecueils  decharnes, 
Sont  comme  des  vaisseaux  de  proie, 
D'une  ancre  eternelle  enchamds. 
La  main  qui  de  ces  noirs  rivages 
Disposa  les  sites  sauvages, 
Et  d'effroi  les  voulut  couvrir, 
Les  fit  si  terribles  peut-etre. 
Pour  que  Bonaparte  y  put  naitre, 
Et  Napoleon  y  mourir  ! 

"  —  La  fut  son  berceau  !  —  Ik  sa  tombe  ! ' 

Pour  les  siecles,  e'en  est  assez. 

Ces  mots,  qu'un  monde  naisse  ou  tombe, 

Ne  seront  jamais  effaces. 

Sur  ces  lies,  a  I'aspect  sombre, 

Viendront,  k  I'appel  de  son  ombre, 


LES  SONS  NOCTURNES  DE  LA   MER,      207 

Tous  les  peuples  de  I'avenir ; 
Les  foudres  qui  frappent  leurs  cretes, 
Et  leurs  ecueils,  et  leurs  tempetes, 
Ne  sont  plus  que  son  souvenir ! 

Loin  de  nos  rives,  ebranlees 
Par  les  orages  de  son  sort, 
Sur  ces  deux  iles  isolees 
Dieu  mit  sa  naissance  et  sa  mort, 
Afin  qu'il  piit  venir  au  monde 
Sans  qu'une  secousse  profonde 
Annongat  son  premier  moment, 
Et  que  sur  son  lit  militaire, 
Enfin,  sans  remuer  la  terre, 
II  put  expirer  doucement ! 

Victor  Hugo. 


UNE   NUIT   QU'ON   ENTENDAIT   LA   MER 
SANS    LA   VOIR. 

QUELS  sont  ces  bruits  sourds  ? 
Ecouter  vers  Tonde 
Cette  voix  profonde 
Qui  pleure  toujours 
Et  qui  toujours  gronde, 
Quoiqu'un  son  plus  clair 
Parfois  I'interrompe.  — 
Le  vent  de  la  mer 
Souffle  dans  sa  trompe  ! 


2o8    .  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Comme  il  pleut  ce  soir ! 
N'est-ce  pas,  mon  bote  ? 
La-bas,  a  la  cote, 
Le  del  est  bien  noir, 
La  mer  est  bien  haute  ! 
On  dirait  I'hiver  ; 
Parfois  on  s'y  trompe.  — 
Le  vent  de  la  mer 
Souffle  dans  sa  trompe. 


Oh  !  marins  perdus  ! 
Au  loin,  dans  cette  ombre, 
Sur  la  nef  qui  sombre, 
Que  de  bras  tendus 
Vers  la  terre  sombre  ! 
Pas  d'ancre  de  fer 
Que  le  flot  ne  rompe.  — 
Le  vent  de  la  mer 
Souffle  dans  sa  trompe. 


Nochers  imprudents ! 
Le  vent  dans  la  voile 
Dechire  la  toile 
Comme  avec  les  dents  ! 
La-haut  pas  d'etoile  ! 
L'un  lutte  avec  I'air, 
L'autre  est  a  la  pompe.  — 
Le  vent  de  la  mer 
Souffle  dans  sa  trompe. 


LES  DEUX  VAISSEAUX.  209 

C'est  toi,  c'est  ton  feu 
Que  le  nocher  reve, 
Quand  le  fiot  s'eleve, 
Chandelier  que  Dieu 
Pose  sur  la  greve  ! 
Phare  au  rouge  eclair 
Que  la  brume  estompe    — 
Le  vent  de  la  mer 
SoufEe  dans  sa  trompe. 

Victor  Hugo,  Juillet,  1836. 


LES    DEUX   VAISSEAUX. 

O  OUVENT  sur  les  mers  ou  se  joue 
*^     La  tempete  aux  ailes  de  feu, 
Je  voyais  passer  sur  ma  proue 
Le  haut  mat  que  le  vent  secoue 
Et  pour  qui  la  vague  est  un  jeu  ! 

Ses  voiles  ouvertes  et  pleines 
Aspiraient  le  souffle  des  flots, 
Et  ses  vigoureuses  antennes 
Balancaient  sur  les  vertes  plaines 
Ses  ponts  charges  de  matelots. 

La  lame  en  vain  dans  la  oarriere 
Battait  en  grondant  ses  sabords, 
II  la  renvoyait  en  poussiere, 
Comme  un  coursier  seme  en  arriere 
La  blanche  ecume  de  son  mors. ! 
14 


2IO  SEA   AND  SHORE. 

Longue  course  k  I'heureux  navire  ! 
Disais-je  :  en  trois  bonds  il  a  fui  ! 
La  vaste  mer  est  son  empire, 
Son  horison  n'a  que  sourire, 
Et  I'univers  est  devant  lui ! 

Mais  d'une  humble  voile  sur  I'onde 
Si  je  distinguais  la  blancheur  ' 
Esquif  que  chaque  lame  inonde, 
Seule  demeure  qu'ait  au  monde, 
Le  foyer  flottant  du  pecheur : 

Lorsque  au  soir  sur  la  vague  brune, 
La  suivant  du  coeur  et  de  I'ceil, 
Je  m'attachais  a  sa  fortune, 
Et  priais  les  vents  et  la  lune 
De  la  ddfendre  de  I'ecueil. 


Sous  une  voile  dont  I'orage 
En  lambeaux  deroulait  les  plis, 
Je  voyais  le  frele  equipage 
Disputer  son  mat  qui  surnage 
Aux  coups  du  vent  et  du  roulis. 

Debout  le  pere  de  famille 
Labourait  les  flots  divisds  ; 
Le  fils  manoeuvrait,  et  la  fille 
Recousait  avec  son  aiguille 
La  voile  ou  les  filets  usds. 


LES  DEUX   VAISSEAUX.  2il 

Des  enfants  accroupis  sur  I'atre 
Soufflaient  la  cendre  du  matin, 
Et  deja  la  flamme  bleuatre 
Egayait  le  couple  folatre 
De  I'espoir  d'un  frugal  festin. 

Appuye  au  mat  qui  chancelle, 
Et  que  sa  main  tient  embrassd, 
La  mere  les  couvait  de  I'aile, 
Et  suspendait  \  sa  mamelle 
Le  plus  jeune  a  son  ecu  bercd. 

lis  n'dnt,  disais-je,  dans  la  vie 
Que  cette  tente  et  ses  tresors  ; 
Ces  trois  planches  sont  leur  patrie, 
Et  cette  terre  en  vain  cherie 
Le  repousse  de  tous  ses  bords  ! 

En  vain  du  palais  et  d'ombrage 
Ce  golfe  immense  est  couronne. 
lis  n'ont  pour  tenir  au  rivage 
Que  I'anneau  ronge  par  Forage 
De  quelque  mole  abandonne  ! 

lis  n'ont  pour  fortune  et  pour  joie 
Que  les  refrains  de  leur  couplets, 
L'ombre  que  la  voile  deploie. 
La  brise  que  Dieu  leur  envoie,  ' 

Et  ce  qui  tombe  des  filets. 

Alphonse  de  Lamartine. 


212  SEA   AND  SHORE. 


LE   RETOUR   DU    MARIN. 

"  "pETITS  enfants,  vos  jeunes  yeux 

-*-      Entre  Peau  qui  gronde  et  les  cieux 
Ont-ils  vu  blanchir  une  voile  ? 
Celle  dont  j'ai  fild  la  toile, 
Si  mon  reve  dit  I'avenir 
Avant  I'hiver  doit  revenir." 

"  Oui,  tantot  sur  la  roche  nue, 
En  regardant  I'errante  nue, 
Nous  avons  vu  la-bas,  la-bas, 
Rouler  une  voile  sans  mats." 

"  Enfants  des  pauvres  matelots 
Dont  les  peres  sont  sur  les  flots, 
Votre  voix  pent  percer  I'orage  ; 
Criez  de  tout  votre  courage  ! 
Dans  I'eclair  aux  sombres  couleurs 
Voit-on  flotter  nos  trois  couleurs  ?  " 

"  Non  :  du  haut  de  la  roche  nue, 
Quand  I'eclair  dechire  la  nue, 
Sur  ce  pont  qui  flotte  vers  nous 
On  ne  voit  qu'un  homme  a  genoux." 

"  C'est  lui  fidele  et  courageux, 
Au  fond  de  mon  reve  orageux 
Cette  nuit  je  I'ai  vu  paraitre  ; 
Descendez  pour  le  reconnaitre  ! 
Moi,  j'ai  tant  pleurd  que  mes  yeux 
Ne  verront  plus  Jame  qu'aux  cieux  !  " 


LE  RE  TOUR  DU  MARIN.  213 


L'a  jetd  sur  la  roche  nue  ! 
S'il  n'a  pas  cesse  de  soufFrir, 
Descendons  I'aider  k  mourir  !  " 

Et  les  enfants  des  matelots 
Retirerent  Jame  des  flots. 
C'dtait  Jame  !  et  la  fiancee 
Vint  toucher  a  sa  main  glac^e 
Son  doux  lien,  son  anneau  d'or ; 
Car  Jame  le  portait  encore  ! 

Qu'ils  sont  bien  sous  la  roche  nue, 
A  I'abri  de  I'errante  nue, 
Oublieux  de  leurs  mauvais  jours, 
Morts  —  et  maries  pour  toujours  ! 

Mme.  Desbordes-Valmore. 


INDEX    OF   AUTHORS. 


Abbey,  Henry,  173,  174. 
Akers,  Elizabeth,  131,  168,  194. 
Aldrich,  Thomas  Bailey,  loi. 
'Allingham,  William,  163,  164. 
Anonymous,    24,   26,   34,    71,    90, 

122,  123,  176,  191. 
Appleton,  Thomas  G.,  93,  147. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  58,  100,  102. 
Aubenel,  Theodore  (Provengal), 

so- 
Brown,  Frances,  no. 
Browning,  Robert,  45,  48,  98,  150. 
Byron,  George  Gordon,  105,  200. 

Campbell,  Thomas,  85. 
Canning,  E.  W.  B.,  175. 
Gary,  Alice,  54,  142. 
Chateaubriand,  Frangois  Augusta, 

205. 
Clough,  Arthur  Hugh,  109. 
Cornwall,  Barry,  104,  138. 
Cowper,  William,  86,  108. 
Cranch,  Christopher  Pearse,  165. 
Cunningham;  Allan,  199. 

Dana,  Richard  H.,  142. 
Davies,  John,  136. 

Eliot,  George,  5. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  118. 


Ennlus  (Greek),  5. 
Euripides  (Greek),  7. 
Ewald,  John,  34. 
Ewen,  John,  183. 

Garrett,  R.,  41. 

Gay,  John,  39. 

Goethe,  John  Wolfgang,  31. 

Gould,  Hannah  F.,  117. 

Gray,  Barry,  128. 

Grossi,  F.  (Italian),  32. 

H.  H.,  Ill,  196. 
Harte,  Bret,  77,  96,  130. 
HavergaU,  Frances  R.,  127. 
Hemans,  Felicia,  43. 
Holmes,  Oliver  Vv^endell,  82,  88. 
Homer  (Greek),  i,  2. 
Howe,  Julia  Ward,  135. 
HoweUs,   William   D.,    177,    178, 

179,  180. 
Hugo,  Victor,  206.  207. 

Ingelow,  Jean,  186. 

Kemble,  Frances  Anne,  144. 
Kingsley,  Charles,  21,  36,  189. 

Lamartine,  Alphonse,  209. 
Larcom,  Lucy,  75. 


2l6 


INDEX  OF  AUTHORS. 


Lear,  Edward,  78. 

Lermontoff,   Michael    Ivanovitch 

(Russian),  204. 
Lockhart,  John  G.,  187. 
Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth,  28, 

56,  83,  91,  167. 
Lowell,  James  Russell,  98. 

Martin,  Theodore,  37. 
Meredith,  Owen,  148. 
Miller,  Joaquin,  158,  159. 
Montgomery,  James,  95. 
Morris,  William,  14,  16. 
Moschus  (Greek),  8. 
Motherwell,  William,  181. 
Moulton,  Louise  Chandler,  133. 
Muloch,  Dinah  M.,  92,  157. 

Onomacritus  (Greek),  3. 
Osborne,  Alice,  97. 

Percival,  James  G.,  140. 
Phelps,  Elizabeth  Stuart,  195. 
Philostratus  (Greek),  9. 
Pindar  (Greek),  4. 
Posidippus  (Greek),  5. 
Preston,  H.  W,  193. 

Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel,  152,  190. 


Sandars,  Edmund,  181. 
Simonides  (Greek),  6,  6. 
Spofford,    Harriet   Prescott,    189, 

196. 
Stedman,  Edmund  C.,  160. 
Sterling,  John,  42,  137. 
Stoddard,  R.  H.,  143,  143. 
Stolle,  22. 

Story,  William  W,,  g4. 
Swinburne,  Algernon  C,  153. 

Taylor,  Bayard,  169,  170,  171,  185. 
Tennyson,   Alfred,    89,    124,    125, 

126,  202. 
Terry,  Rose,  201. 
Thaxter,  Celia,  103,  161,  198. 
Thoreau,  Henry  D.,  120,  121. 
Timrod,  Henry,  184. 
Trowbridge,  J.  T.,  116. 

Virgil  (Latin),  10,  12. 

Valmore,  Marceline  Desbordes, 


Wasson,  Da^^d  A.,  114. 
Wheatley,  Phillis  (African),  203. 
Whittier,  John  Greenleaf,  63,  66, 

68. 
Wilson,  John,  139. 
Wordsworth,  William,  136. 


INDEX    OF    FIRST    LINES. 


PAGE 

Across  the  narrow  beach  we  flit 103 

A  floating,  a  floating 189 

Ah  !  what  pleasant  visions  haunt  me 28 

Ah,  why,  my  brother  mariners 5 

Alas !  poor  souls  and  timorous 16 

A  little  while,  a  little  love 190 

All  in  the  Downs  the  fleet  was  moored 39 

All  in  the  summer  even 133 

All  the  rivers  run  into  the  sea 195 

Alone  I  walked  the  ocean  strand 117 

Alone  upon  the  windy  hills 165 

And  soon  as  by  the  vessel's  bow 4 

A  maiden  came  gliding  o'  er  the  sea 42 

And  ever  as  he  travelled  he  would  climb v 

As  I  came  round  the  harbor  buoy 186 

As  I  stand  by  the  cross  on  the  lone  mountain's  crest 130 

As  ships,  becalmed  at  eve,  that  lay 109 

An  anchor  in  Hampton  Roads  we  lay 83 

A  thousand  miles  from  land  are  we 104 

A  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea 199 

Ay,  tear  her  tattered  ensign  down 82 

Beneath  the  low-hung  night  cloud 66 

Break,  break,  break 202 

By  the  billows  and  blasts  driven  and  tost  in  the  gloom 6 

Can  it  be  women  that  walk  in  the  sea-mist 148 

Come,  dear  children,  let  us  away 58 

Consider  the  sea's  listless  chime 152 

*'  Courage,"  he  said,  and  pointed  towards  the  land 19 

Counting  the  hours  by  bells  and  lights iii 

Des  vastes  mers  tableau  philosophique 205 

Down  in  the  wide,  gray  river 201 

Down  on  the  shore,  on  the  sunny  shore 163 

Down  to  the  wharves,  as  the  sun  goes  down 131 


2i8  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 

PAGB 

Eastward  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see 98 

Fair  ship  that  from  the  Italian  shore 124 

Far,  far  away,  across  the  sea 30 

Far  on  its  rocky  knoll  descried 102 

Far  on  the  deep  mid-ocean  tossed 168 

For  lo  !  the  sea  that  fleets  about  the  land 136 

"  Go,  boy,  and  light  the  torch !  the  night" 22 

*'  Go  show  to  earth  your  power !  "  the  East  Wind  cried     ....  147 

Green  fields  are  about  me  with  hill  and  plain 175 

Haste  to  the  port !  The  twnttering  swallow  calls 9 

He  said,  and  -with  his  spear  struck  wide to 

High  on  the  ledge  the  wind  blows 161 

I  climbed  the  sea-worn  cliffs 97 

I  have  ships  that  went  to  sea 128 

I  heard  or  seemed  to  hear  the  chiding  sea 118 

I  hear  the  noise  about  the  keel 125 

I  leaned  on  the  turf 150 

II  est  deux  iles  dont  un  monde 206 

In  Mather's  "Magnalia  Christi" 56 

In  the  summer  twilight 196 

In  this  sad  hour,  so  still,  so  late 193 

I  stand  beside  the  mobile  sea 159 

I  stood  on  the  brink  in  childhood 178 

It  is  a  beauteous  evening,  calm  and  free 136 

It  is  the  midnight  hour :  the  beauteous  sea 139 

It  surged  and  foamed  on  cold  gray  lands iSr 

It  was  Earl  Hal  dan's  daughter 36 

I  walked  with  her  I  love  by  the  sea 177 

King  Christian  stood  by  the  lofty  mast 34 

Light  as  a  flake  of  foam  upon  the  wind 95 

Like  a  bird  of  evil  presage        180 

Mariner,  what  of  the  deep? 123 

My  life  is  like  a  stroll  upon  the  beach i3o 

Nobly,  nobly  Cape  St.  Vincent  to  the  north-west  died  away    ...  98 

No  careless  watch  the  monarch  Neptune  kept i 

O  bitter  sea,  tumultuous  sea 14 

O'er  the  smooth  main,  when  scarce  a  zephjT  blows 8 

Of  all  the  rides  since  the  birth  of  time 68 

O  curfew  of  the  setting  sun!  O  bells  of  Lynn 91 

Oh,  sweet  and  fair !  Oh,  rich  and  rare 191 

Oh,  I  love  to  be  out  by  the  waters  at  night 142 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES.  219 

PAGE 

O  mother,  rede  me  well,  I  pray 37 

O  my  white,  white,  light  moon,  that  sailest  in  the  sky 174 

One  sails  away  to  sea 179 

On  the  sea  and  at  the  Hogue 48 

On  the  surface  foam  and  roar 127 

O  sea,  in  evening's  glow 34 

O  sweet  the  flight  at  dead  of  night 189 

Oh,  tell  me,  sailor,  tell  me  true 54 

Our  bark  is  on  the  waters  deep 181 

Outside  the  garden 153 

Over  the  sea  our  galleys  went 45 

"  Petits  enfants,  vos  jeunes  yeux  " 212 

Pleasant  it  is  to  lie  amid  the  grass loi 

Poor  lone  Hannah 75 

Quaint  clusters  of  gray  houses  crowding  down 90 

Quels  sont  ces  bruits  sourds 207 

Raise  we  the  yard  and  ply  the  oar 137 

Rememberest  thou  the  day  when  we 204 

Sauntering  hither  on  listless  wings i     .     .  96 

See  what  a  lovely  shell 89 

She  lay  among  the  myrtles  on  the  cliff 21 

Slowljr,  steadily,  under  the  moon 176 

Souvent  sur  les  mers  ou  se  joue 209 

Splendors  of  morning  the  billow-crests  brighten 160 

Swallow  from  beyond  the  sea 32 

The  billows  swell,  the  winds  are  high 108 

The  breaking  waves  dashed  high 43 

The  clouds  are  scudding  across  the  moon 185 

The  heaven's  vast  world  stood  silent 5 

The  island  lies  nine  leagues  away 142 

The  lift  is  high  and  blue 92 

The  monarch  Neptune  kept  no  idle  watch 2 

The  night  is  calm  and  cloudless 167 

The  night  is  clear 140 

The  night  is  made  for  cooling  shade 116 

The  pathway  of  the  sinking  moon 169 

Then  with  a  whistling  breeze 3 

There  be  none  of  beauty's  daughters 200 

There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods 105 

There  was  a  king  in  Thule 31 

There  was  once  a  carven  ark 6 


220  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 

PAGE 

The  sea  has  left  the  strand 144 

The  sea  is  calm  to-night 100 

The  sea !  the  sea !  the  open  sea 138 

The  shivering  column  of  the  moonlight  lies 94 

The  silence  there  was  what  most  haunted  me 93 

The  sky  is  thick  upon  the  sea 143 

The  stream  was  smooth  as  glass 41 

The  sweet  moon  rules  the  east  to-night 135 

The  tide  has  ebb'd  away 157 

The  tide  \\-ill  ebb  at  day's  decline 194 

The  wind  ahead,  the  billows  high 114 

The  wind  is  blowing  east 1-43 

The  wind  shakes  up  the  sleepy  clouds 164 

They  ran  through  the  streets  of  the  seaport  town 77 

They  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve,  they  did 78 

Ttis  is  the  ship  of  pearl  which  poets  feign 88 

Thou  comest,  much  wept  for  !   such  a  breeze 126 

Though  all  the  fates  should  prove  unkind 121 

Thus  having  said,  with  his  inverted  spear 12 

Toll  for  the  brave 86 

Too  long,  O  spirit  of  Stonn 184 

Under  the  cliff  I  w-alk  in  silence 173 

Upon  the  white  sea-sand no 

We  are  building  little  homes  on  the  sands 122 

Weel  may  the  boatie  row,  and  better  may  it  speed 183 

We  part  as  ships  on  a  pathless  main 158 

We  sail  toward  evening's  lonely  star 198 

What  flecks  the  outer  gray  beyond 63 

When  the  tide  comes  in 196 

When  the  uneasy  waves  of  life  subside 171 

Where  yonder  dancing  billows  dip 170 

While  raging  tempests  shake  the  shore 203 

Who  had  ever  such  adventure 24 

Who  had  ever  such  adventure 26 

Would  God  I  were  now  by  the  sea 7 

Ye  mariners  of  England 85 

\'e  mariners  of  Spain 187 

You  see  the  gentle  water 71 


